


Pros & Cons

by LexiLulu



Category: Chris Evans - Fandom
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 125,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexiLulu/pseuds/LexiLulu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Speed dating at Comic Con sounded like a crazy idea to Clemmie Rogers, and she was right. But perhaps the strange man she met was better than she could have ever hoped</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

This is crazy. Speed dating is for crazy people, right?

And I am officially one of them.

I look down at my hairy feet — they aren't mine of course — they're prosthetics. Any second now some man will sit across from me and we'll have two minutes to decide whether or not we're interested. I can decide in about two seconds, but that's not how this process works.

I let my sister and best friend talk me into this, and I can't believe I am going through with it. I hear the shuffling around me. I'm on the back row so I can't see anything. I wait. The Green Arrow sits across from me. He smirks. Eww.

"All right," Duff, the speed dating director, says into his microphone. "When the bell dings, you have two minutes. Talk, get to know each other, make notes. The bell will chime, the men will rotate. Ladies, because you are all princesses, the men will come to you. When we've rotated through the room, please make a list of your favorites in the order you like best. Everyone is a character so if you don't get a name, just write down the character. This is the plus of speed dating at a con."

Nervous laughter fills the room.

"Ready? Start talking!" The bell chimes.

"You're cute," says The Green Arrow. "You're a lady hobbit? You know what the lady hobbits did in the books, right? They had babies. They had lots of babies. Do you want to have lots of babies? I wouldn't mind putting my babies in you. What are you? 34C? Does the carpet match the drapes?"

"You're disgusting."

"Oh, you're feisty."

I raise my hand.

"Yes, lady hobbit?" Duff says, running to my side.

"This bastard asked my bra size and other inappropriate things."

"Arrow, you know those questions are off limits. You're out."

The Green Arrow narrows his eyes at me and knocks his chair over as he leaves.

"Sorry about that," Duff says, "we want all you ladies to feel safe and comfortable. Thank you for telling us."

"Thanks for kicking him out."

"No problem."

The bell dings and Duff sweeps the microphone back to his mouth. "If you didn't notice, we had a man break the rules so he was asked to leave. Ladies, one of you will just have to sit alone every two minutes, but I don't think you'll mind. Guys, your chances have just increased! Make the most of it."

Several guys come and go between the ding of the bell but none of them are interesting. Halfway through, an amazing Ronan the Accuser sits across from me. He has a nice smile beneath all the black crap smeared around his lips.

He smiles. "I'm Jimmy."

"Hi Jimmy," I say. "I'm Clemmie."

"Your costume is amazing," he says. "Did you sew it all?"

"I did," I say, "I'm a part time seamstress."

"That's fantastic."

"Thanks," I say, "what about your whole getup?"

"My brother helped with some," he says. "He's Peter Quill and his girlfriend is Gamora. Their daughter is Rocket."

"I bet that's adorable."

"It is," he smiles, his eyes distant like he's thinking of them. It's cute. "Um, where do you live?"

"St. Louis. You?"

"Chicago," he answers.

"Nice," I say. "I love the pier."

"I love the arch," he laughs.

"I'm a wedding planner."

"Accountant," he says. "Huh. You seem really nice, Clemmie."

"You, too."

The bell chimes.

I think we must be almost done — we have to be, right? I can't take any more guys disappointed my boobs aren't hanging out of my top and my midriff is covered. Of course there's nothing wrong with cosplays like that, but it does seem to be the only thing the guys are interested in. It's not that I can't take their disappointment — I don't really care if they're disappointed. I can't take the disinterest in their faces when they see me. What is wrong with this picture?

I hear heavy boots round the corner and sit up straighter when I see Darth Vader sit across from me. He seems to be fairly tall by the way his legs stretch out into the aisle. It's not a territorial thing, they're just that long.

"Hi."

His Vader breathing is the only thing that follows.

"Okay. How are you even allowed in here?"

"I am sorry," Vader says. "I was caught off guard by your outfit. I like it."

"I never thought I would hear Vader say he likes something."

"Don't make me use The Force on you." His laugh echoes through the voice modifier. "Kidding. Really though, your outfit is nice."

"Thank you," I say.

"Yours is very authentic."

"It was loaned to me."

"Nice friend."

"Yep," he says, "have you had any luck?"

"Ronan was nice," I say.

"You like a bad boy?"

"Asks the man dressed as Darth Vader."

The same laugh reverberates from inside the costume. "So true. You're cool."

"Thanks," I say. "Not sure what to think of you. Could you take off the helmet?"

"Not today," he says. "Later. It's quite a contraption."

I shrug. "I bet you've impressed the ladies."

"One can hope," he says. "What's your name?"

"Clemmie," I answer. "Yours?"

"Anakin."

"Har har. Say something funny."

"Something funny."

The bell dings and relief rushes over me. I'm done with Darth. Hopefully Jimmy wrote down my name and I'll be on a date this evening.

"All right everyone," Duff says, "please write down your top three picks, give us a few minutes to fix everybody up and we'll send you on your way."

I write down Jimmy, a guy dressed as Castiel who wasn't too terrible and Darth just for kicks. I look at him as I finish writing his name, and I think he's staring at me. He hasn't written anything and he doesn't pass anything along. That's unsettling.

I line up with all the other women along the wall and wait. They seem excited as they approach the front of the line and meet their match. Some of them light up with their results and others seem a little disenchanted. Jimmy is still available two girls ahead of me, and he smiles shyly at me. He is quite tall, I notice, as he towers over everybody in line. I look over the remaining few and Darth Vader is gone. That's odd — I hadn't noticed him get matched. Oh well.

Oh no. She got Jimmy!

Castiel is already gone, too. Who does this leave for me?

Duff grins when he sees me. "Clemmie, the lady hobbit, please step over there."

"What?"

"Your results are special. Emily will help you."

Duff's wife Emily appears out of nowhere and takes my elbow. “Now Clemmie, your match has already left. We think Darth Vader would be perfect for you, but he had to go. He left this for you. Take it from me, you should meet him.”

What the hell?

“Okay, thanks.”

The piece of paper has an address and time scribbled on it. This is all very mysterious.

Madge, my sister, and Care, my best friend, beam as I exit the room.

"So," Madge says, her eyes sparking, "how was it?"

"Okay."

"Who's you get? That guy from Assassin's Creed was hot."

"I got Darth Vader."

"So tell us about him!"

"Well, he's tall, likes black and needs a machine to breathe."

"Clemmie, we meant about your man!"

"That's really all I know," I say. "He never took off his helmet, he really had a voice modifier and he didn't even tell me his name."

"Well that doesn't sound right," Madge says.

"It is what happened," I say. "I have the name of a place and a time if I want to meet him. Hopefully it'll be him-him and not him."

"Him-him," Care says, nodding. "You have to go."

"Oh, I have to?"

"Yes," Care says. "You went to the speed dating thing. You have to meet him just once. When was the last time you went on a date? And this one is easy, right? No harm, no foul. If you don't like him, you leave. You'll never see him again."

"But what if he tries to rape and murder me?"

Madge pulls the paper from my fingers. "This is that bar in the fancy hotel across from ours. It's a public place. You'll be fine."

"He could still be a creep."

"And he could be your person," Madge says. "He could be the man you're destined to be with for the rest of you life. He could be the man you're supposed to kiss every night and drool on until morning."

"What do I wear?"

"Ah, now's the fun part!" Care cheers. "Darth Vader is going to get a boner so big his codpiece won't cover it up."

I sit at the bar one shot down and my second margarita cold between my palms. I like it because the bartender put sugar around the rim.

I'm not normally a nervous dater, but today I am. This guy could be anybody, and I'd hate for him to walk into this sophisticated bar as Darth Vader. Surely he wouldn't do that, but as he's now twenty minutes late, I have no idea what to think. The crowd has picked up and I know I'll need to eat something soon if I want to walk across the street to my hotel. I can never hold my liquor.

"Do you need another one or is it time to stop?" The bartender asks.

"Do you have anything peach?"

"Peach sangria," he answers. "This one will be on the house."

"Thank you," I say. "Do I look that bad?"

"You look fine," he says. "Actually, you look great. Who is it you're supposed to be meeting?"

"I don't know!" I say. "That's ridiculous, isn't it? A blind date in a bar with a guy you've never really met! What if he's a serial killer?"

"Just stay where I can see you," he says. "I'm Josh. If something is wrong at any point, order the pink fuzzy navel."

"What if I genuinely want the pink fuzzy navel?"

"It doesn't exist," he says. "You can't order it, but all of us know that's the code. Order it and someone will help you."

"You have a code?"

"This is a bar in a five-star hotel," he says, "not all of our patrons are as honest and respectful as we'd like them to be. No woman should feel threatened, even if she may happen to be a high-dollar prostitute."

"That is a nice thought," I say. "You're a good man, Josh."

"Thanks," he says, plopping the peach sangria and adding the little umbrella to the top. "I kind of hope he doesn't show up so I can talk to you all night."

He winks and I get butterflies. Care had said no harm, no foul, and I could make out with the bartender for awhile. That could be fun.

I sigh at the peachy thing in front of me, delighted to find more sugar on the rim.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

I jerk my head up and freeze. I need to give a coherent answer but can't gather one as Chris Evans is standing next to me with his hand resting on the back of the empty stool. All the other stools at the bar are occupied except the one on my other side, so this is clearly the only place for him.

Darth Vader obviously isn't coming.

"Sure," I say. "I mean, I don't mind if you do it. Go ahead."

"Thank you," he says. "I don't want to take up your time or space but this looks like the last seat in the house."

“It’s yours,” I say. “And you’re not taking up my time or space.”

Josh sets a beer on the bar in front of Chris. He looks at me and the movie star who as joined me. “Would you like to try our special — the pink fuzzy navel?”

“No thanks, Josh,” I say. “Not yet.”

“Well, you let me know if you do,” he says. “How are you today, Mr. Evans?”

“Great, man. Thanks! How are you?”

“Doing all right,” he says. He nods to me again before making his way to the other end of the bar.

A few minutes pass before Chris breaks the silence. “You’re all dressed up. Do you have plans?”

“I was supposed to be on a date,” I answer, figuring there’s no point in lying and it’s not like Chris Evans is going to care. “He’s obviously not coming. What are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Finished for the night,” he says. “Some days it’s just nice to grab a beer, you know?”

“Don’t like beer,” I say, “but this sangria is divine.”

He laughs. “Could I buy your next one?”

“I’m not sure I need a next one,” I say. “I’ve had a bit to drink already and am quite the lightweight.”

“At least you know your limits,” he says. “What happened with the guy?”

“I don’t know,” I answer, resting my cheek on the bar. “It was kind of a dumb, blind date and I don’t even know what he looked like.”

“You don’t know what he looked like?”

“He was dressed as Darth Vader,” I say. “It was speed dating at the con, and in my defense, the director told me I should come.”

A beat passes. “Well, if you don’t mind me saying, it’s his loss.”

“Thanks, I guess. It doesn't feel that way."

"Let me buy you dinner," he says, "that'll show him."

Dinner would be nice now that I've blown fifty bucks on alcohol.

"We don't even have to leave the hotel," he says, "I mean, they've got burgers, they've got an Italian place and a Mexican place. We can totally leave the hotel if you want though."

His eyes are wide and it makes me smile. He's actually nervous. 

Or he's really good at pretending to be.

"We can stay here," I say. "I'm craving some empanadas actually."

"Empanadas!" Chris cheers. "Good. I like empanadas too. Let me get the drinks and we'll go."

"Oh you don't have to get my drinks! Like I said, I've had a few and can certainly pay for my own alcohol."

"Please let me pay for your drinks," he says. "It would be my privilege."

"A privilege? I've been drinking alone."

"And the fact you had to drink alone is exactly why you shouldn't have to pay. That jerk should have been here to buy them for you. Call me old fashioned, but when I ask a lady out, the date is on me."

"Is this a date?"

"Would you like it to be?"

"Yes," I say. "I would."

"It's settled then," he says. "It's my honor to take you on this date, but there's one thing I need to know first." Please don't let it be perverted. "Your name."

"Clemmie," I answer. "Sorry I didn't mention that sooner."

"No reason you needed to tell me until now," he says, "I'm Chris."

"I know," I say.  “I think I’ve just about seen all of your movies.”

“You have?”

“Every one except the Teen one,” I say. “I started it but couldn’t get into it.”

“Yeah, not my finest,” he says. “Hey, is that Beauty and the Beast on your dress?”

“It is!” I say. “I could have been all sexy on this date but I would rather be myself with a stranger.”

“No, I like it,” he says. “There’s nothing sexier than a woman who knows who she is.”

A blush spreads over my cheeks. This has certainly been a turn of events. He offers me his elbow and I slide my hand in it. He smells amazing, like bergamot and mahogany mixed with sunshine.

“Thank you,” I say. He leads me through the hotel with expert ease to the Mexican restaurant. It’s dim and the hostess eyes him for a second before leading us to a table even though the lobby is full. He pulls out my chair for me and thanks her for our table.

“That was nice of you,” I say.

“What, pulling out your chair?”

“Yes,” I say, “it doesn’t often happen anymore.”

“My mother raised me right,” he says.

“I’m glad to hear it,” I say.

“Dinner is completely on me,” he says, “so order another drink if you want and order whatever you like.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, his mouth in that signature half smile of his. “I’m sure. I can afford it.”

“I can afford it too,” I say, “but thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, taking a drink of his water on the table. “So, you keep saying you can pay for yourself. What do you do?”

“I am a wedding planner,” I say, “assistant to St. Louis’ most successful planner.”

“Weddings, wow.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say, “most men do. I’m just obsessed with getting married and I don’t care to who as long as there's a wedding."

"Nope," Chris laughs, "wasn't thinking that. Actually, my sister planned her wedding by herself and I think she wished she'd hired someone else to do it. It was lovely and everything, but she was stressed."

"That's my job," I say. "I take all the stress off the happy couple so they can enjoy their big day. And I do enjoy it."

"If that's what you're passionate about," he says, "then that's fantastic. As you may know, I'm on the fence about my future."

"Well, you're a phenomenal actor but if your heart lies in something else, the do that."

"Buenas noches," the waiter days, "what can I get you to drink?"

“Margarona please," I say.

"I'll have just the Corona please," Chris says.

"Can I see your ID?" The waiter asks me. I nod, digging in my purse. He looks pointedly at Chris. “I don’t need to see yours.”

“It’s because I look like I’m sixteen,” I explain, handing him my driver’s license, “when in fact I’m twenty-six.”

"Great," the waiter says, "I'll get those in and will be back in a few minutes to take the order."

"Thank you," Chris says. I take a drink of water and look at him. "So tell me about this date."

"I did speed dating," I say. "It's dumb, I know, but everything else hasn't really worked. I figured I was here and there wasn’t a lot at stake, you know?”

“Makes sense,” he says. “I would have never guessed you were looking for a date. Or that you’re twenty-six.”

“Good genes,” I say, “for the most part. It doesn’t help that I’m so short.”

“You’re not short,” Chris says.

“I’m five-foot-one,” I answer, “that’s short. There’s no point saying that I’m not.”

“I’m walking a fine line of complimenting you and insulting you,” he says. “I want to tell you you’re adorable but I don’t want to offend you.”

“You can tell me I’m adorable,” I say, “just don’t say it in that voice like you’re talking to a baby. That’s when it gets annoying.”

“Noted,” he says. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“It’s like I bet you don’t enjoy when people call you Captain,” I say, “you know, except for kids who don’t know any better. You’re Chris and you like to be called that unless someone has a pet name.”

Chris dips his head a bit and laughs. “That makes sense. Well, you are adorable and I don’t mean that in the way you would say that to a baby.”

“Thank you,” I say. “You’re handsome.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’ll take it.”

The waiter brings our drinks as well as a basket of chips, three different salsas and a bowl of queso. I admit to him I haven’t even looked at the menu yet. He rolls his eyes at me but smiles at Chris and says he'll be back.

"Isn't he a bowl of fruit?" I say, taking a drink of my margarita with a Corona shoved in it. It’s the perfect drink because it’s like two in one. 

“What are you thinking?” Chris asks.

“Empanadas,” I say, “without a doubt. You?”

“Do you want to share?” he asks. “We could order some fajitas too.”

“That sounds lovely,” I say. “What flavor?”

“Combo?”

“If I can be honest,” I say, “I am allergic to shrimp. So if you wouldn’t mind avoiding it, I would greatly appreciate that.”

“No shrimp? We can definitely avoid shrimp,” he says. “Allergic to shrimp.”

“And latex,” I say, “but that’s not something you need to be concerned with yet.”

“Yet?” Chris laughs, his eyebrows raised.

“Did I say yet?” I ask, my straw between my teeth. Alcohol loosens my lips.

“You did,” he says. “But I won’t worry about that yet.”

He winks and I turn into a puddle of giggles. This should definitely be my last drink. Curse Darth Vader for making me drink alone!

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Too many,” I say, “I’m pulling back.”

“All right there,” he says, “I mean, I don’t want to say you shouldn’t drink as much as you want, but you definitely don’t want alcohol poisoning.”

“You’re right,” I say. “Don’t want alcohol poisoning.”

He thinks I’m an insane drunk girl. This date, since we’re calling it that, is over before it’s even gotten off the ground.

“So, Clemmie, the wedding planner from St. Louis,” he says, “what brings you to the Con?”

“Avengers #62 published in 1963,” I say. “Mile High Comics has the best edition I’ve seen so far.”

“You collect comics?”

“My whole family does,” I say, “but this one is mine. My siblings are competing in the Masquerade tomorrow and this is my niece’s first con. It’s always fun to be there when the kids go to their first.”

“Oh really?” He asks. “How many nieces and nephews do you have?”

“Three for now,” I say. “Many more in the future undoubtedly.”

“What? Are your family rabbits?”

“I’m one of seven,” I say, “Even if we only had two children apiece, that’s fourteen children total.  My oldest brother has already has two.”

“Six siblings?” he says. “That’s insane.”

“It is,” I say, “never a dull moment though. My youngest brother is ten years younger than the next youngest, so he’s been raised as an only child most of his life.”

“Wow,” Chris says, “ten years. What happened there?”

“He was a surprise,” I say. “My parents had six children in six years and planned for that to be the end but then there comes little Tobias years later.”

“Do you all have red hair?”

“There’s four of us,” I explain, “Me, the twins and Tobias. I think if it wasn’t for the red hair, people would think he’s the child of an affair.”

“Your dad with the red hair?”

“Indeed,” I say.

“It’s gorgeous,” he says.

“Thanks,” I say, “I’m not sure my brothers were crazy about it growing up, but they don’t mind it now. You’ve got several siblings, right?”

“Three,” he says, “Two sisters and a brother.”

“Look at your family being all uniform,” I say. “Are you all attractive?”

“Yes? I think so?”

“Probably,” I say, “sorry. When I drink I get a little loopy.”

“Understandable,” he says, “it takes a considerable amount to get me drunk.”

“You better catch up then,” I say. He gives me that same half smile before chugging the rest of his beer. “People are going to say I’m a bad influence.”

“You’re not a bad influence,” he says, “I don’t think so anyway. You may just push my buttons.”

“Do you need your buttons pushed?”

“Holy shit! Is it your ginger hair that makes you that sassy? I’m going to hire you to be my fluffer.”

“How does that pay?”

“It could pay very well if you play your cards right,” he says.

Am I flirting with Chris Evans?

“Did you decide what you want to eat?” The waiter abruptly asks.

“We did,” Chris says. “I would like the fajitas with chicken and steak. No shrimp anywhere near the plate, please. I would also like two more beers when you get the chance.”

“For you, anything,” the waiter says before shifting his gaze to me. “You?”

“I would like the empanadas please,” I say.

“Great,” he says. “I’ll bring that shortly.”

Chris is great company while we drink and eat chips, and his eyes grow wide when the waiter brings a steaming pan of fajitas our direction. They smell amazing and steam billows around Chris’ face.

“That looks wonderful,” I say, “my mouth is watering.”

“Help yourself,” Chris says as the waiter sets my plate of empanadas on the table. They look good, but the fajitas look better. “Seriously, make a fajita.” He reaches across the table and picks up one of my empanadas. “I mean it.”

“Okay,” I say, digging in. I am literally sharing a meal with Chris Evans. We talk comfortably about our families and my job — he doesn’t want to talk much about his which is understandable. All those interviews and things where you think he’s the nicest guy ever don’t even begin to cover it.

I've had another margarita by the time we finish and Chris is insanely handsome. Like, the moon shines out of his eyes and his eyelashes look soft enough to wrap up in and take a nap. I want to lick whipped cream from the tip of his nose and spend an eternity learning his lips and how they would feel on mine.

He leaves cash in the little black book and runs around the table to help me from my chair.

"Hey Clemmie," he says, "would you like dessert?"

"Yes!" I shout a little more loudly than I would have liked. "Sorry, dessert sounds nice."

"Great," he says. "There's a frozen yogurt place here too."

"I love a good frozen yogurt," I say, looping my hand through his elbow. "Is this bad for you — to be seen with me? In public?"

"Nah," he says, "I can eat with anyone. It also helps if we look like two old friends having a good time together."

"Friends," I say, "I like being your friend."

"Perfect," he says. "I would like having you as a friend."

I get the chocolate stuff clouded with Oreos, gummy worms and syrup. Chris favors a vanilla with fresh fruit, and I favor sitting in the chair next to him my hand on his knee. His arm is draped across the back of my chair, and I make him laugh. I love his laugh.

I don't want to go back to my hotel room either.

"You are so easy to talk to," he says, leaning closer to me.

"I like talking to you too," I say.

"I don't want to be too forward," he says, "but would you like to come up to my room for a bit? I mean, I don't expect anything at all and honestly you're a little drunk so I would feel badly if we did something anyway, but we could talk."

"I shouldn't," I say, "but I will."

"You will?"

I bite my lip and nod at him. "Yeah, I will. Darth Vader be damned."

"I seriously have to tip my hat off to the guy," Chris says, "if not for him, we wouldn't have met. Can you make it up the stairs? We'll be seen by fewer people if we take them."

"We can see," I say. "I'm not sure I've my legs about me."

"I'll carry you if I have to."

"In that case, I'm afraid I can't walk at all." I feign having weak knees and Chris, being the gentleman that he is, reaches out for me like I'm about to hit the ground. Laughter bubbles up from me as I lean against the wall with Chris' large body pressed into mine, his arms protectively around my waist.

"I'm okay!" I say. "I was just messing with you. I walk in heels for a living. I can make it up the stairs."

"You walk in heels for a living?"

"It's sad but it's true," I say. "No one is going to want to hire a woman to take care of her most important day if she can't take of herself."

"That's a load of shit," Chris says, pulling open the door to the stairwell.

"It is, isn't it?" I say, holding onto the handrail because I might have lied slightly when I said I was okay. "Maybe one day when I've launched my own line or have my own business after I've made a name for myself, I can let myself go. Then I'll be the best so it won't matter."

"Your own line?"

"Of wedding dresses," I say. "It's my dream to produce high-end looking dresses at a low-end price. Just because a bride can't afford a princess dress doesn't mean she doesn't deserve one."

"That's a lovely thought," Chris says. "Have you made any dresses?"

"My sister and sister-in-law's," I answer, taking it one step at a time. This might not have been a good idea. "I have all these sketches around my living room. Care, my best friend and roommate hates them all, but she's got plastic pigs everywhere so she can't say anything."

"Pigs?"

"She collects them," I say. "Her gran started her on it so now they're everywhere."

"She sounds like a character."

"She is," I say. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What are your friends like?"

How many fucking flights of stairs are we going up?

"They're great," he says. "I'll tell you about them in the room. You never know who's listening."

That's true, I suppose. I resolve to keep quiet as we climb because I realize the ground is a little unsteady. It's wavy, really.

"Here," Chris says, opening the door with a big "3" painted on it.

"You're just on the third floor?" I ask. "I felt like we were climbing for days."

"You, little button, are drunk."

"You paid for it all," I say. "You shouldn't be so nice."

He laughs as he follows me onto the carpet.

"It's at the other end of the hall and around the corner."

"Okay."

"Are you going to scream if I pick you up?"

"Why would I scream?"

"I think I can carry you faster than you're walking."

"All right," I say, "let's see what you've got."

I'm cuddled against his chest in a second, one of his arms beneath my knees and the other behind my back. He smells even better now, and I can see the light stubble on his chin.

“You’re handsome,” I say, “like really.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Good genes.”

I laugh and wrap my arms around his neck. I stare at him as he easily carries me down the hall.

“The key is in my back pocket,” he says, “do you mind grabbing it?”

“I don’t mind that at all,” I say, reaching into his pocket. I would very much like to touch the rest of his bum, but I refrain. I slip the key into the door and push on the handle. I look around his hotel room, pleased to see it's beautiful.

"Bed or couch?"

"Bed!"

"Eager, are we?"

"You already said nothing was going to happen," I say. "I just like being in your arms and the bed is further away."

Chris smiles at me. "You're adorable, button."

"Thanks," I say. "You are, too."

He sets me on the bed and flops down on the other side. I move to unbuckle my wedges and stretch out on my back.

"So how's the con going?" I ask, looking at the popcorn ceiling. 

"Fine," he says, "I love and hate these things."

"Too many fans?"

"Too many questions," he says. "This could be my last though so I'm trying to savor it."

"I know you're thinking about tossing in the towel," I say, "which is fine — that's totally in your rights to do so, but do you really think this is your last con? I mean, I live every year for the con. I told my boss when she hired me at the ripe age of 22 that Con week was non-negotiable. She could have taken on William and Kate during Con week and I would have still said no. The air, although often smelly, is better at a con."

"The air?" He laughs, rolling onto his side and propping up on an elbow.

"The air," I say. "For one week, we get to come to California, be surrounded by like-minded people — you know, the ones viewed as freaks everywhere else — meet our heroes, buy tons of stuff we can't possibly use and just be ourselves. Like, the air is charged and excited and we are all too. Maybe it's different for you since you're on the other side of it, but it's amazing to me."

"No, it's still amazing," he says, "even on my end. Sure, I smell all those smells and I usually have to hug people who don't know what deodorant is, but it's great. The fans are excellent and they make what I do worthwhile. And I wouldn't have met you without it."

I snort. "Yeah, because I'm the prize in all this."

"I've really enjoyed talking to you, Clemmie," he says softly. He's either looking at my arm or the mattress. "I'm not sure you'll remember any of this in the morning, but it's nice to talk."

"I'll remember," I say, "don't worry."

"Will you tell me more about your con experiences?"

"Of course! Do you want to hear about the giant baby or the time my brother got beaten up by Xena?"

"Xena, definitely."


	2. Chapter 2

I will say this: Chris' hotel bed is a billion times more comfortable than mine. I sleep so well I don't hear my phone buzz the billion times it does in my purse and I wake to Chris rolling over.

"Good morning," he says, his eyes just barely open and a smile across his face.

"Good morning," I say. I reach over and take his hand lightly. "I had a really nice time. It was great talking to you. Sorry if I made myself a drunken ass."

"You were never an ass," he says. "Do you like coffee?"

"I can never turn down a cup in the morning."

"I'll be right back," he says, rolling off the bed. We slept on top of the comforter with several inches between us. Magically the skirt of my dress has stayed put so I'm not even remotely scandalized. I stretch my legs as I sit up and look around the room. We stayed up much too late last night but I enjoyed it.

The closet is open a bit and a piece of black fabric hangs out. I slip from the bed quickly and open the door.

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

My eyes flick from the black cape to Chris standing by the foot of the bed.

“You’re Darth Vader?”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were Darth Vader?”

"I didn't want to creep you out."

"You failed."

The costume hangs in the closet spread out over several hangers. The helmet rests on the luggage rack in the corner.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and take several long, deep breaths. This was certainly unexpected.

"Clemmie, I'm sorry."

Deep breaths.

"I know there's no explanation I could give that could make this okay but I had a really nice time and it was really great to just talk to someone for the night."

"I accept your apology," I say, "but no more lies."

"What?"

"I'm not sure why you did it, I'm not sure why you were half an hour late, but I did have a better time with you than I've had with anybody in a long time. So it's not okay but it's something I can deal with."

"You'll deal with it?"

"Tell me one thing."

"Anything."

"Why?"

"I don't want this to sound as vain as it's going to," he says, "but it has become incredibly hard for me to meet anybody — anybody, friends, women, stylists — anybody that doesn't have expectations of me. I just wanted to meet a woman who was nice and funny and didn't necessarily want something from me."

"So you dressed up as Darth Vader," I say, "hardly said anything as such, showed up half an hour late and decided I was decent enough to approach."

“Yes?"

"And what did you want from me? Did you think about me?"

"Shit, Clemmie." He runs his fingers through his hair. "I didn't know I would like you so much."

"What?"

"I didn't know I would like you so much."

"So what? You went through all this for a date and a good lay with someone who doesn't want anything from you?"

"No! No. I just wanted to meet a lady," he says. "Sex was never an option. I can't just sleep with anybody, and I certainly wouldn't sleep with you on the first date."

"What — is there something wrong with me?"

"No, of course not," he says, "you deserve more than that, that's all! You deserve time and dates and not some drunken fling one night at Comic Con."

"Oh."

"Would you have wanted that?"

"No," I say. "Just don't lie to me again."

"Deal," he says. "So I didn't screw up totally?"

"We just met under false pretenses," I say, "I'm sure that happens on any date type thing."

He smiles. "I'm sure it does."

“I mean, you must be living some life if you have to dress up in full Sith garb just to get a date.”

Laughing, he reaches for my hand. “Can I see you again today?”

“You can,” I say, “if our schedules will allow it. I’ll be helping my family get ready for the Masquerade all afternoon so they can take the stage this evening.”

“What time is that?” he asks.

“It starts at eight,” I say. “It’s the big closer for the night, you know.”

“I can make that,” he says.

“You, Chris Evans, Captain America, The First Avenger, The Man Out of Time, are just going to walk right into the International Comic Con Masquerade to sit with a girl you’ve known a day and not expect anything to happen from that?”

“Vader has to be returned tomorrow,” he says. “He’s mine for the night.”

“You can’t watch the whole Masquerade contest from in there,” I say. “How tall are you?”

“Six foot,” he says.

“How do you feel about Batman?”

“How do I feel about him?”

“My brother is a little shorter than you but he’s got a whole Batman costume put together,” I say, “I mean, at least you can see out his eyes clearly. I’ll be Poison Ivy if you want so you won’t be alone drawing more attention to yourself. It’ll be fun.”

“So now you’re giving me your brother’s costume?”

“Lending it to you,” I say, “if you really want to go to the Masquerade.”

"Okay."

"Okay? Okay!" I say. "Where's your phone?"

"My phone?"

"I'm going to put my number in it," I say. "If this is happening, you're going to have to meet my family. I'll need to prepare them for it and they're probably worried about me anyway. I have to go now, before they call the cops if they haven't already. Text me when you're finished this afternoon, and I'll tell you where to meet us."

"Sounds great," he says.

"Good," I say, handing him his phone. "It's under Clemmie Rogers."

"Rogers?"

"I know, like it was meant to be."

He laughs. "I will text you later. Um, thanks for being so cool about this. I had a great time."

"Yeah, me too. See you later."

I hug him quickly before grabbing my shoes and purse, bolting for the door. I find my phone as soon as I'm out in the hallway and see I do in fact have thirty missed phone calls and so many texts the number isn't even on the screen.

"Madge!" I say as soon as the call connects.

"Clemmie! Where the fuck have you been? We've been calling you all night! Where are you?"

"I'm at his hotel. Darth Vader's — I got drunk and—"

"Oh my God! He hurt you! Stay there but away from him. I'm calling the cops and Harrison and I will be—"

"Madge! Stop it. Nothing happened, I promise. I am in fine health, but there is something we need to talk about but it's more a face to face thing."

"You had your first orgasm! That's what it was! Clemmie Rogers!"

"No, Madge! Stop being a crazy person! Are you in public right now?"

"No, I'm just in the room with Care. Are you coming here?"

"Yes, and I've had an orgasm for your information. Stop saying crazy things."

And now I'm the one who gets the rude look from the cleaning lady at the end of the hall.

"Sounds to me like you could use an orgasm."

"Shut up. I'm sorry I didn't call but I think you'll forgive me when you find out why."

"It had better be good."

"It is," I say, "like star-spangled good."

"That sounds patriotic," she says. "See you in a few."

I slide my key in the door minutes later and wait for the green light to click. 

“So?” Care says, sitting on the edge of the bed when I get inside.

“It’s Chris Evans.”

“What is?” Madge asks.

“Darth Vader is Chris Evans.”

“The Chris Evans?”

“The Chris Evans,” I say. “Captain America, Jake Wyler, Curtis Everett, Johnny Storm, Colin Shea, that Chris Evans.”

“Shut the fuck up! No way!”

“Yes way!” I say. “He dressed up as Darth Vader to meet someone and met me. He’s actually really great and wants to come to the Masquerade but he obviously can’t just walk in there as himself so we have to get Oz’s Batman and put it on Chris.”

"You're putting Oz's costume on Chris?”

“Yes,” I say. “I don’t know when or how but it needs to happen.”

“Okay,” Care says. “We’re heading over to the Doctor Who panel now but then we’re meeting the boys outside the gaming room. The plan is to get them all ready and then get ourselves ready. Could he be there then?”

“Probably,” I answer. “He had stuff this morning. He’s going to text me when he’s finished with everything.”

“Are you going to tell everyone else?” Madge asks. “That’s a lot of family all at once."

“I think so,” I say.  “I mean, it’s not like he’s my boyfriend.”

“Would you like him to be?” Care asks.

“Maybe?” I answer. “You’re picking the pears and we haven’t even planted the seed yet. Slow your roll.”

“Okay,” Madge said. “You need to change clothes and freshen up. We’ll get the costumes lined up for the Masquerade.”

“I can’t believe you spent the night with Chris Evans!” Care said. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do,” Care said, hugging my shoulders. “Go get ready!”

“Thank you.” I scurry into the bathroom to shower and change. I pull on a dress that looks like Harley Quinn and blow-dry my hair. Touching up my makeup, my stomach flips. Am I really hanging out with Chris Evans for the second time in two days?

I know I should be really excited about the Doctor Who panel but I can’t focus on it. All I can think about is Chris and how wonderful last night was. He was surprisingly humble and down-to-earth, and he was incredibly generous. I am seeing him again.

The hotel room is a flurry with faux fur and body paint, and when we finish, Lion-O, Cheetar, Tygra, Panthro and Snarf stand together. Thundercats had been a favorite of Oz’s when we were kids and he felt it appropriate to tribute it now.

“They look fantastic,” Liv, Oz’s wife, said. “You’ve really all outdone yourselves.”

“Thanks,” I said. “The costumes came out really great.”

We could all sew but I was the best, and my brother August and Care did all the makeup. There was a knock on the door.

“Who is that?” Harrison asks, practicing his grimace. He’s dressed as Panthro and it’s odd to see him with orange eyes.

“Um, I have a friend who’s going to sit with us during the Masquerade but he’s going to borrow Oz’s Batman. Please, please, please don’t be weird around him though.”

“Weird? Why would we be weird?” July asks, her billowing blonde wig flopping. She’s Cheetara and the costume fits her perfectly.

“Oh, you’ll see!” Madge says, fixing Oz’s mane.

I open the door and Chris stands on the other side in a baseball hat and sunglasses.

“Hi!” I say, pulling him inside. “Be prepared.” I take his hand and lead him through the room. “Everybody, this is Chris.” My siblings all stand openmouthed and wide eyed. “Chris, this is my oldest brother, Oz, his wife Liv, my sister Madge, my sister July and her twin August, my brother Harrison and his girlfriend Paris, and this little dweeb is my brother Tobias. My friend Care is over there in the chair and the lovely lady fixing July’s hair is her girlfriend, Lizzie. My niece Octavia is asleep there. That’s everyone.”

“No way!” August says. “Chris! You’re the Chris!”

“I’m the Chris,” he laughs, shaking August’s hand. “You guys look incredible.”

“Thank you,” Oz says, shaking Chris’ hand. “You’re incredible, you know. Snowpiercer was such an excellent movie.”

“Thank you,” Chris says. “Wow. Like, this is quality movie makeup.”

“We try,” Care says, crawling over the bed to meet him. “HI, I’m Care.”

“Hello,” Chris says.

“Are we all ready?” Oz asks. There’s a collective cheer throughout the room. “Thundarians HOOOOOO!”

The group leaving now cheers as they grab their foam and plastic weapons and head out the door, saying a few words to Chris as they pass.

“Fantastic,” he says as the door shuts behind him. “You guys really do this.”

“Like I said,” I say, “It’s our one chance.”

“I like it,” he says.

“Yes,” I say, “but now for you.” I go to the closet and pull out the pieces for his Batman costume.  “You can take the bathroom. Just yell if you need help with anything.”

“You think I’ll need help?”

“It’s eighteen pieces,” I say, “you’ll probably need help. We’re going to be painting out here though so please announce yourself before coming out.”

Now it’s just us, Madge and Care in the room, and Care has already started slipping on Madge’s wig.

“I will make myself known,” Chris says with a grin as he pushes open the bathroom door. I pull off my shorts and shirt and screw the green paint into the airbrush tip. I make quick work of my legs and Care finishes my chest, back, arms and neck. My face will be painted by hand, and Care gets to work on it quickly. I pull on my green leotard covered with leaves and adjust the top of it so it sits appropriately, and Madge laces up the back. I’ll apply the leaves to my wrists and ankles in a moment, but first I have to help Madge pull up her unitard. She’ll be The Riddler and Care will be Two Face. I help Care pull her hair into place and spray it gray, and she fixes mine where it needs it and slips my leafy crown into place, pinning it.

“Go check on Chris,” Madge says, gluing her eye mask into place. She’s wearing a ridiculous violet wig and has painted the purple around her eyes. She’s ready. Care is quickly painting her face. I knock on the bathroom door.

“You all right in there, Batman?”

“Um,” Chris says, opening the door. “The shirt doesn’t exactly fit.”

He’s managed to get the black pants up his legs and resting comfortable around his hips with a few pieces of armor attached, but the shirt is too little for his broad shoulders and huge arms. It curls around his neck where it won’t stretch any further. He’s so muscular it was ridiculous to think Oz’s shirt would fit. I mean, Oz can hold his own but he’s not chiseled like Chris.

“That is a problem,” I say, staring at his chest. “Do you mind going shirtless?"

“What?”

“We can paint your chest black and glue the pieces to your arms. If you want. Or you can half-ass it and wear a regular shirt and just the Batman mask.”

“You’re calling me a half-ass?”

“I would never,” I say, throwing my arms up in mock innocence.

“Bring on the body pant.” He jerks the shirt over his head

“Wonderful,” I say. Chris follows me out of the bathroom and stands on the plastic sheet we’ve taped to the floor. Another has been taped to the wall so we don’t ruin the hotel.

“Oh hello,” Care says, dropping her paintbrush. I giggle as she looks at Chris, perfectly bare chested and rippled and tan.

“Oz’s shirt won’t fit so we have to get him painted,” I explain, switching the green for the black in the airbrush machine. “Are you allergic to paint?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” he says. “How do you want me?”

Madge cackles at that line, and a blush spreads across my cheeks. Chris licks his lips with a smirk and quirks one eyebrow. “You’re fine for now, but we’ll have to get your arms up in a minute.”

“Good to know,” he says. I spray the plastic to test the color before getting pulling the ottoman over to stand on. “You look amazing, by the way.”

He’s staring at my chest but I suppose it’s difficult not to. It’s a corset top even if everything is painted green. I am staring at his, too, so I guess it’s all fair game.

“Thank you,” I say, “I picked her because I don’t have to do anything with my hair.”

He laughs and flinches when the cold paint hits his skin. The paint easily coats his torso and his tattoos disappear.

“Who’s Bardsley?” I ask. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s a touchy subject.”

“Ah, he was a friend who died,” Chris says.

“Sorry for your loss,” I say.

“It’s okay,” he says, “it’s been a long time.”

I nod as I move the paint down his chest, thinking about how odd this is. Abs.

“What?” Chris says.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Really? Because I swear you said abs.”

“Absolutely,” I say. “You have very nice abs.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“Where are you planning on wearing the pants?”

“Um, where they are?”

“Okay,” I say, “I’m going to pull them down a bit so we can paint the line."

“All right,” he says. I don’t look up as I pull the pants lower, revealing even more lovely skin.

“You know what you should do,” Care says, “is underpants it.”

“Underpants it?” Chris asks.

“Yeah,” Care says. “Where we paint everything black, including your legs. You just wear your underpants, especially if you have black ones. It’ll be great.”

“You just want to figure out how big my dick is.” Chris says, straight faced.

“Well, I won’t deny I hadn’t thought about it,” Care says, “but really, if you want the best look, that’s what you’ll do.”

“Underpants it?”

“There’s a group of guys that do it every year,” I say, “they wear tiny, tiny little seamless briefs and paint the rest of themselves. They do get lots of attention and pictures.”

“Hmmm,” Chris says, shrugging. He pops them hem of the pants and smirks. “I happen to be wearing black underthings today.”

“It’s your call, Romeo,” I say, finishing the front hip line.

“Do it,” Madge says. “You’ll have to really change your voice though so as not to get recognized.”

“I’m having a good day,” he says, “let’s do it.”

The pants pool at his feet. I take a deep breath as I sink to my knees. He’s got such lovely legs, and I try not to look at the thing right in front of my face. I spray his feet and then his legs.

“Turn around please.” God, even his ass is perfect. I paint the backs of his legs and the insides of them too, pushing his boxer briefs up his thighs to make sure no pale skin is showing. I stand up and paint part of his back before climbing onto the ottoman to finish it. He holds out his arms for me so I get the rest of him covered. “Care will paint the bat logo for you. I’m not that gifted.”

“I’m sure you could do a lovely job,” he says, smiling at me.

“Shaky hands,” I say. “I can get a decent coating on a person and sew a perfect seam when focused, but trying to paint a logo on a person is too much.”

He looks at his hands, now completely painted. “This is crazy.”

“Isn’t it?” I say. “If you stand in the shower for about ten minutes, it should all wash off. You may have to scrub at some of it, but it’s really not bad.”

“And your shower will be all green?”

“It will,” I say. “All pretty and green.”

“Yes,” Madge says, “let’s get you finished while Care paints him and then we’ll get her into her jacket and be ready to go.”

Several minutes later, the four of us are all set and I am so excited. I’ve never brought a man friend to one of these because it was so personal I didn’t want it to be spoiled with a guy who didn’t mean anything. 

“We look amazing,” Chris says, looking at himself in the mirror. “You guys should do this professionally.”

“There’s too many people who do it now,” Madge says, “it’s just a hobby.”

“You’re really good at it for a hobby,” he says, “all of you.”

“Thanks,” Care says, “we try.”

“Liv has seats for us,” Madge says, “but we need to leave now.”

Chris holds out his hand and I take it, and he smiles at me. The cape billows behind as he walks, wearing a pair of black boots he brought with him. The headpiece fits perfectly and he looks hysterical all muscles and bulges. 

“You’ll need a Batman voice,” Care says. “And people will want to take pictures of you.”

“Just don’t call me by my name,” he says, “if you don’t mind.”

“You got it, dude,” Madge says. “You make an amazing naked Batman.”

“Thank you,” he says, “I like your Riddler.”

“Thanks.” The walk to the convention is long simply because everyone wants to take a picture. It’s fun getting to watch Chris interact with fans who don’t even know who he is, and I think my little crush has become a big problem.

Eventually we make it into the event hall and find our seats on the second row. Octavia giggles when she sees us and skips out of Liv’s lap.

“You’re pretty,” she says to me.

“Thanks, doll,” I say, “so are you.”

She blushes when she notices Chris watching her and she smiles at him. “Batman?”

He nods. “Hello, little one.”

Instead of saying anything, she just giggles and runs back to Liv.

“She’s shy,” I say, “and you’re probably the closest thing to a Disney prince she’s ever seen.”

“Disney Prince, really?”

“I think so,” I say.

A few minutes later the Masquerade is underway and my siblings’ routine is flawless. They look amazing and get lots of cheers and applause.

“This is incredible that none of these people do this for a living,” he says. “Everyone looks amazing.”

“It’s pretty cool,” I say. “You’ve never watched one of these before?”

“Nope,” he says. The next group out is The Avengers, and Chris gets that same little smile Steve gets while watching the Captain America movie in the theater. Eventually the groups finish and then it’s time for the judges to select winners. The contestants take their seats on the front row and now we wait.

“What do your think their chances are?” Chris asks, leaning towards us.

“Good,” Care says, “You never know what the judges are going to like, but they fabricated everything. That’s a lot of costumes to fabricate by hand.”

“The skit was hilarious,” Madge says. “That’s always helpful.”

“Well, I hope they win,” Chris says.

“Us too,” I say. “I sewed three of their costumes myself.”

“You did?”

I nod. “Yep, I just put on episodes of 30 Rock and go to town on some fabric.”

“Fascinating,” he says.

“We have our winners,” the guy says, coming back to the stage. “Let’s hear it one more time for our judges.”

We all cheer. The singles are first, and then it’s time for the groups. Each judge has an award to hand out and then it’s time for best in show. The Thundercats haven’t won anything yet which looks good.

“And our best in show goes to The Thundercats!”

We’re out of our chairs, jumping hugging and cheering. "Yes!”

“Congratulations!” Chris says, picking me up in his arms.

“I can’t believe it!” I say, squeezing him. He’s a wonderful hugger. I really could hug him all day.

Oz takes the trophy and hoists it above his head, giving a few remarks.

We meet them in the lobby where people line up to take their pictures, a few even grabbing slutty Batman and his three women. Nobody has any idea it’s Chris and I think he’s really enjoying the anonymity. Finally the crowds die down and Octavia is asleep in Liv’s arms. Oz looks tired too, and July and Lizzie have an early flight out in the morning. It looks like everyone is pooped but I don’t want to go back to the room yet.

“I am so tired,” Madge says. “I need to call Richard and tell him the good news.”

“Yeah, Dixon will want to know,” Care says. “I’m going back to the hotel.”

“I’ll go with you,” Madge says with a wink. “But if certain parties wanted to stay out for awhile longer, they could do that.”

“Thanks for the permission, mom,” I say. They hug before heading towards the hotel, and Chris and I stand in the corner next to each other.

“Well, if you would like to hang out with me,” Chris says, “I don’t know what we’ll do but I would like to hang out with you some more.”

“Have you been to the beach?” I ask.

“No, actually,” he says.

“Well, I guess that’s what we can do,” I say. He smiles and puts his arm around my shoulders.

“So that was your family?”

“My siblings, yeah,” I say. “Mom and Dad stayed in North Carolina for this one.”

“North Carolina?”

“That’s where we Rogers hail from,” I say. “We’re not Bostonians.”

“You knew I was from Boston?”

“If I didn’t know,” I say, “the accent gives it away.”

“Ah, the accent,” he says. “Should have known.”

“Should have known.” I say. “How was your time at the Con?”

“Great,” he says, “it’s good to see everybody. It’s nice to see the fans and it has been really great meeting you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” he says. “I’m sorry I had to trick you into coming on a date with me.”

“I would have said yes if you had just asked me straight up,” I say, “but I can see why you needed to be secretive. It was fun watching you with people who didn’t know who you were. It’ll be great when someone realizes you’re you, and all those people who had their pictures taken with you will lose their shit.”

“Would you lose your shit?”

“If I took a picture with you not realizing it was you only to discover it was later, I would lose my shit.”

We’ve made it out of the convention center and the short walk to the sand. It’s mostly vacant but a few people still roam the beach. I stop at the edge of the pavement to pull off my heels. Chris bends over to unlace his boots just enough to get his feet out of them. I keep my shoes in my hands and he leaves his on the concrete.

“You’re taking them with you?”

“Someone could steal them.”

“No one’s going to steal our shoes,” he says, “there’s no one here.”

“Fine,” I say, dropping the shiny emerald heels next to his. My feet were beginning to hurt anyway.

“Come here,” he says, turning us so the streetlight brightens are our faces. He pulls his phone out of God knows where as I slip under his arm. “I’ll tweet this tomorrow and you can see what happens.”

“You’re going to tweet a picture of yourself? You never tweet pictures of yourself.”

“I’m going to tweet a picture of myself,” he says. “But really it’s Batman so it’s okay.”

“All right,” I say.

“Do you mind being in the picture?”

“Not at all,” I say, “No one will know who I am.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “Thought I should ask first before a little bit of your life slips away. The other girls won’t mind when people realize, will they?”

“Are you kidding? They ran around with a mostly naked Chris Evans for a night. They’ll think it’s great.”

“Does me being Chris Evans have a lot to do with you hanging out with me?”

“Not really,” I say. “It’s an odd thought when I think about it, like when I genuinely think about it. Otherwise, you’re just Chris, a big handsome goofball who likes Disney movies and Mexican food. You have to know you’re a nice guy, right? I’d be stupid not enjoy spending time with a nice guy.”

“Well, thank you,” he says. “It does me good to hear it.”

“Of course,” I say, “and if it helps, you’re not the first famous person I’ve met.”

“I’m not?”

“My boss is the leading wedding planner in St. Louis. I’ve helped coordinate eight Rams’ weddings, four Cardinals’ weddings and two Blues. I’ve had dinner with Scott Bakula and enjoyed an evening with Norbert Leo Butz.”

“An evening?”

“He was doing a dinner,” I say. “It was a fundraiser and he sang the whole night.”

“That sounds great,” Chris says.

"It was fun," I say. "St. Louis is great. There are so many things to do and see."

"Do you get to experience it much with your job?"

"Sure," I say. "Mrs. Morganstern is my boss, and she's got me and another girl directly beneath her. We each have two assistants and there are floaters beneath them. I get one weekend off a month usually and the whole office is closed on Monday. Sometimes there are special circumstances but it's usually not bad."

"Next time I'm in St. Louis you'll have to make time to see me."

"Gladly," I say. I really would love to see him in St. Louis. Hell, I'd love to see him anywhere. Something wet lands on my arm and I think maybe it's just a drop of spit but his mouth is closed. He doesn't seem to notice so we keep walking, the sand shifting beneath our feet.

I feel another drop land on my nose. "Was it supposed to rain tonight?"

"I don't think so," he says, "but you feel it too?"

"Yes," I say, "we should get back inside."

"Okay," he says. But it's too late. Suddenly we're caught in a downpour on the beach. He grabs my hand and pulls me along. "Run!"

I'm trying to keep my arm above my head so I can see but it doesn't help much. We grab our shoes on the way and dash down the street. Our hotels are a few blocks away from the convention center and I follow him blindly praying I don't step on something horrid.

"I'll run you to your hotel," he says. "I'm sorry I wasn't expecting the rain."

"I have to go with you!" I shout. "Oz will kill me if I don't get that costume back."

"My hotel it is," he says, and we cross the street. We take the side door as not to attract attention to the dripping Batman and Poison Ivy. Laughing as we climb the stairs, Chris takes a misstep and falls, slipping in water.

"Shit!" He yells as he goes down.

"Chris! Are you all right?"

He's rolled onto his side, his arms cradled around his ribs as he laughs.

"Yes," he manages. "Come on! We have to go before there's a black and green smudge on the floor."

I help him up and we're climbing again. This staircase opens at the end of the hall nearer his room and we bust through the door. He pulls his room key from somewhere and lets me inside.

"Help me get this thing off please," he says, struggling with the straps that go under his arms to support the mask. I slip one off and then the other, gently pulling on the headpiece to get it off safely. He shrugs off the cape, and runs his hands through his hair.

"Is that it?" He asks. "If you give me a few minutes to rinse this all off, I'll walk you back to your room."

"Can I have a shirt?"

"Of course," he says.

"Then I'll stay," I say, "if you want."

He nods. "Sure."

"Can you loosen these strings please?" I ask, turning my back to him. He works quickly and I shiver. "That was cold rain."

"So cold." I feel his fingers halfway up my back as he undoes the laces.

"All done," he says, his hands dropping to his sides.

"Thank you," I say, slipping it off my body. "I hope I can salvage it.” I'm still wearing a little white thing that hardly constitutes as a bra and white underwear, and I hang my costume upside down in the closet. "Come with me."

I take his hand and pull him into the bathroom, flicking on the shower. We stand underneath the steady stream of warm water in our underwear, not saying anything. I mostly stare at our feet and marvel at the mix of black and green disappearing down the drain. 

"I bet I look like a drowned rat," I say eventually when my skin is mostly pale and freckled again.

"You really don't," Chris says. "How about I get out and you can wash everything? I'll leave a shirt for you on the counter."

"Okay," I say.

"I'll order some room service," he says, "you want anything in particular?"

"Just a Coke please," I say, "can you order a Coke from room service?"

"You can order anything you like."

"Great," I say. He smiles as he reaches out of the shower and grabs a towel. I wait for him to dry off a bit and leave before stripping off my underwear and flinging them over the bar. I wash my hair, scrub my face and manage to clean my body. I’m not shy but I appreciate his respect and not wanting to jump right into showering together. He is a dream.

All of his toiletries smell amazing, just clean. I feel refreshed when I step out and wrap a towel around my body.

“It’s ready if you want it,” I say, opening the bathroom door. I grab the shirt he left on my way and he smiles from his place in the chair. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I won’t be long.”

I nod. “Okay.”

He closes the door behind him, and I drape the towel across the back of the chair as I pull on the shirt. It hangs to my thighs since I’m so short and it smells just like him. I find a comb sitting on the dresser and begin running it through my hair. His bed is as squishy as it was the day before and I sit on the same side. The water shuts off a few minutes later, and Chris grins at me as he comes out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

“Your stuff smells really nice,” I say.

“I end up hugging a lot a people so I try not to find things too aromatic,” he says. “I love cologne though.”

"It smells good too.”

“Thanks,” he says. He digs through his suitcase and pulls out a pair of boxer briefs, going around the corner to pull them on.

“I hope you don’t mind I sat on your bed,” I say.

“Of course not,” he says, “do you want some shorts?”

“I’m okay,” I answer, combing my hair. “And I stole your comb.”

“That’s all right,” he says. “You’ve got a lot of hair.”

“I do,” I say, “and it’s become quite the mess.”

“You want to watch movie?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say. “You pick.”

Chris starts flicking through the video menu on the TV, and throws out several titles. We settle for a romantic comedy and Chris pauses it when there’s a knock on the door. He wheels a cart into the room and smiles.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he says, “aside from empanadas, so I ordered a little bit of everything.”

“What?” I ask, crawling toward the edge of the bed. “What is all this?”

“I’ve got chicken strips with fries,” he says, “there’s a fruit tray. Hamburgers, pizza, and I ordered ice cream.”

“There’s ice cream?”

He nods. “Oh yes.”

“You’re amazing,” I say.

He shrugs one shoulder and grins. “Thanks.”

We break into the food and I moan, not realizing how hungry I was.

“What did they do to these fries?” I ask, rudely talking with a mouthful.

“Have you tried the chicken yet?” He finishes his first strip.

“So good.”

He starts the movie again as we eat. He ordered bowls of chocolate and vanilla ice cream, and we both like each flavor so we half it between the ourselves.

A chill sets over me between the rain run and the ice cream.

“You can get under the sheets if you want,” Chris says. “That’s totally fine.”

I do and pull them up under my armpits. “Thanks.”

“Certainly,” he says. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“I’m happy to be here.”

We watch the rest of the movie, and both of us end up under the covers. Chris leaves the TV on even though neither of us pays attention to it.

“Did you tell your family you were here?” He asks, turning his head and squishing his pillow. “I mean, I can probably defend myself from one guy but four is probably too many.”

“Four?”

“Tobias looks like a man who can hold his own.”

“He’ll be thrilled to know you said that. Madge knows I’m here though.”

“You all have such unusual names,” he says, “how’d that happen?”

“My parents’ names are John and Emily,” I say. “They were bound and determined not to give their children boring names so they took to fantasy books and old books and the months to name their children. To be fair, July was born July 31 at 11:53 p.m. and August was born August 1 at 12:13 a.m. “

“That’s incredible,” he says. “I just want to know everything about you.”

“I want to know everything about you,” I say. Chris reaches for my fingers resting on my pillow and kisses the tips of them.

“Good morning again.”

I blink a few times and whip my head up.

“You drifted in your sleep,” he says, “but I don’t mind.”

“Sorry,” I say sitting up. My head had been on his chest with my arm across his ribs. His arm is around my back and rests on my hip. “I guess I got cold.”

“Like I said,” he says, “I don’t mind.”

I smile, knowing I could kiss him. I won’t though because I think that would ruin what we have. “I should go.”

“How are you going to go?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have no clothes,” he says, “and you leaving here in my shirt and boxers is probably going to cause some problems.”

“You’re right,” I say. “I have to call Care. What time is it?"

"Eight. Would Madge and Care want to eat breakfast here? We could order room service so they have a better reason to bring you clothes."

"You would do that?"

"I would do that," he says, crossing his arms across his chest and smiling.

"You're amazing."

"So you've told me," he says. I hug him as he lays, and I grab my phone.

"Good morning, sunshine," Madge says as she answers. "Is your vageen still in tact?"

"Maaaaaaddddgggeee. I was just calling to invite you to breakfast."

"Breakfast? With Chris Evans? Hell yes. Where?"

"His hotel," I say. "We're getting room service."

"Hell yes. We'll be over in five."

"Hey! Would you bring me some clothes?"

"What do you want?"

"Underthings," I say, "and just whatever you get out of my suitcase."

"So your Sexy Spider-Man onesie and the blue cheekies with ruffles and stars?"

"Ohmygod, no! I didn't even bring the Sexy Spider-Man and I'm a little frightened you know my underwear that well."

"That was actually the first pair in your bag," she says. "Are they really not okay?"

"No," I say, "that's fine. Just bring me a shirt and some shorts please."

"Okay," she says. "See you soon. I want a waffle."

"Yes ma'am," I say. I drop my phone back on the night stand and flop next to him. "Madge wants waffles."

"We can order waffles," he says.

"Can I ask you something?"

He nods.

"Why are you doing all this?"

He takes a deep breath and looks down his body like staring at the wall is easier than staring at me.

“I mean, if it’s because you feel guilty about the whole Darth Vader thing, I’m over it. I said I could deal with it and I have, and you’re forgiven.”

He smiles and blinks, his eyes shifting back to me. “It’s not about the Darth Vader thing. I just really like you. I believe that you were sitting in that chair dressed as a hobbit and that I sat down across from you for a reason. I believe you stayed in that bar when you clearly didn’t have to and you agreed to let me take you to dinner for a reason. Call it fate, call it God, call it kismet, whatever, I just believe you and I were meant to spend this weekend together, and I am going to do just that until I can’t anymore.”

“I feel like you’ve tapped into the inner workings of my brain and know just what to say.”

“I forgot to tell you,” he says, cupping my cheek with his hand. “I’m actually a mindreader.”

“You little shit.” I say, pushing up on one hand and slapping his chest with the other.

“I think given enough time you’d find there’s nothing little about me.”

“Oh, I think I already know that,” I say, dusting my fingers over his happy trail. He grabs my arm out from under me and I smack against his wall of a body with an “oof!”

Chris simply wraps his arms around my back and holds me to him, and I am right on top of the tattoo spreading just under his clavicle.

“ 'When you lose touch with inner stillness, you lose touch with yourself. When you lose touch with yourself, you lose yourself in the world.’ That’s nice. Who is that?”

“Eckhart Tolle,” he says, “just something to remind me.”

“Hmmm,” I say, tracing it with my finger. “Lose one friend, lose all friends, lose yourself.”

“That sounds familiar,” he says, “who is that?”

“Plays With Squirrels.”

“What?”

“It’s from an episode of Boy Meets World,” I say.

“Ah, when Eric married the moose, of course!” he laughs, hitting his forehead. “That was such a good one.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” We’re quiet for a few minutes, and I study his skin.  The sunlight coming in through the window practically makes him glow golden, and his skin stretches perfectly over bone and muscle. He’s got these two moles on the side of his neck, like little beacons of the best place to kiss. Biting my lip, I consider what his reaction would be if I kissed one — just one — of those little moles.

He smells so wonderful I don’t have to think anymore. I shift my head but ho! There’s a knock on the door.

“That’ll be them,” I say, scurrying off of him. It’ll be sight enough I’m standing in nothing but his shirt. I run through his hotel room and pull open the door.

“Well, well, well,” Care says, with one eyebrow cocked. “Don’t you look good in his shirt?”

“That was very tame considering what I thought you were going to say.”

“I’m full of surprises,” she says. “Where’s breakfast?”

“We haven’t ordered it yet.”

“Listen to her,” Madge says, “already making a we out of a he and a she.”

"Ha ha, very funny," I say, taking the bag from her hands. "Thank you."

I carry it to the bathroom and change while I hear Chris talking to my sister and friend.

"Hey button?" He calls through the door.

"Yes?"

"What do you want to eat?"

"Mmm, pancakes with two eggs over medium. And bacon!"

"Can do," he says. Along with a fresh set of underwear, Madge brought me my Guardians of the Galaxy tank and a pair of neon green shorts. She threw in a pair of flipflops for good measure. I fold the shirt up and set it on the counter, wondering if it would be bad to stick it in my bag. It smells so good I could stuff it and sleep on it.

That's precisely why I leave it.

"Cute," Care says. "What did you two do last night?"

"Just watched a movie," Chris answers. He's pulled on a shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. "Nothing too exciting. You?"

"I went to sleep early," Care says, "that one stayed up late talking to her boyfriend."

"What?" Madge says. "He had a really good weekend."

"Her boyfriend owns a club," I explain.

"Ah, very nice," Chris says.

"It is," she says. 

They both sit in the armchairs while Chris and I take the couch. We eat breakfast after it’s delivered and I know it’s time to say goodbye. I don’t really want to.

Chris hugs Care and Madge first, both of them kissing his cheek. Care grabs the pieces of Oz’s costumes and opens the door.

“We’ll be in the hall,” Madge says, taking my bag. I nod after her and look at Chris.

“Thank you for taking a chance on me,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Thank you for taking a chance on me,” I echo. He grins and takes my hands, holding them in his own. “I had a lovely time.”

“Me, too,” he says. “Do you mind if I call you?”

“I don’t mind at all. In fact I think I would be very happy for you to call me.”

He grins. “Well then, Clemmie Rogers, until we meet again.”

I stand on my toes to hug him, and he tightly embraces me. I hold him longer than I should because I know this is probably the last time I’ll ever get to. I kiss his cheek when we begin to part and he smiles.

I don’t say goodbye because that feels so final, so instead I just shrug. My fingers stay in his as long as they can before we’re too far apart, and I sigh. My chest feels heavy and tight as the door closes behind me and Madge pulls me under her arm and my head against her shoulder.

“It’ll be okay,” she says. “Something tells me you’ll be seeing him again.”

I hope she’s right.


	3. Chapter 3

Two months have passed since Comic Con and my time with Chris, but he kept his word and called. We've talked or texted just about every day since then, and I feel like he's my friend. 

Care stirs the vegetables in the wok while I tend to the chicken, and her boyfriend Dixon pours us both a glass of wine. He basically lives with us even though he still has his own apartment. They care for my dog when I have a late night so I can't be angry with them.

My phone rings and I unplug it from the charger.

"Who's that?" Dixon asks.

"It's Chris," Care says, "she's got that dumb smile."

I roll my eyes but can't stop the smile as I put my phone up to my ear.

"Hey," I say.

"Hi button," he says, "how are you?"

"I'm doing all right," I say. "How was your day?"

"Good, good," he says. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the Meyers-Penn wedding, do you?"

"I do," I answer, "she's mine. How'd you know that?"

"I'm one of the groomsmen."

"What? How do you know Matt?"

"We went to school together for awhile," he says. "Anytime we're in the same city, we get together for a drink."

"How cool," I say. "So you're the Chris with the measurements. I should have known when they sent those shoulder to hip ratios."

"That's me," he says proudly.

"So I'll see you at the wedding in a month?"

"Yes ma'am," he said. "Save me a dance?"

"After everyone is gone if you last that long," I answer. "I'm not supposed to fraternize on the job."

"Okay," he says, "I'll wait."

"You will?"

"I will."

"Chris."

"Clemmie."

"I like you."

"I like you, too."

I giggle and rub my face with my hand.

"Awe, look," Care says, "they're in luuuurrrrrvvvvveeeee."

"Shut up," I say.

"Care giving you a hard time?" Chris asks.

"Always," I say.

"Tell her I said hi," he says. "You'll have that Monday off, right?"

"I will," I say. "And that Sunday, too."

"We'll have to have a party then," he says, "or a date."

"That sounds like fun." I pull the chicken off the griddle while Care separates our vegetables onto plates. “May I plan it?”

“You can plan one day,” he says. “But I want one too.”

“Deal,” I say. "Can I have the first one though so if you decide you don't like me, I can still do my fantastic date?"

"Clemmie," he says, "I think we'll be fine."

"You say that now."

"Well what happens when you decide you don't like me?"

"You're so funny," I laugh.

"That's how I feel about you when you say those things."

"Ugh, fine," I say. "Anyway, we've just finished making dinner — can I call you later?"

"Of course, button," he says, and I can practically hear his smile. "Enjoy your chicken."

"Thank you."

I'm pacing around the front hall of the church, with my headphones in my ears. My assistant Tina is on the other end of the call at the reception hall.

"It looks great," she says. "The cloth company is coming in the morning and the DJ will set up tomorrow afternoon."

"Excellent," I say. "Um, you can come back here if you want or you head home for the night. Your choice."

"I think I'll go home tonight," she says, "if that's all right with you."

"Of course," I say, "you've done fantastic work."

"Make sure you don't work too hard," she says. "You deserve a break, too."

"I will, thanks."

The front door of the church opens and my heart is racing. This will be a true chance to see whether all this between me and Chris means anything.

"Clemmie," Julie, the bride, says. She hugs me and immediately looks over my shoulder to the sanctuary. "How is everything?"

"Perfect," I answer. "I have one of the end pieces set up for you to look at and they'll do the rest of it in the morning."

"Great, great," she says. "You already know the girls, and these are the groomsmen. That’s John, Brad, Mark, Topher and Chris."

The others hugged me or shook my hand and then I got to Chris. His whole face turned into a goofy grin and he hugged me tightly in those big arms of his, lifting me off the ground.

"Oh shit!" Matt, the groom, yells. "This Clemmie is your Clemmie?"

"One and the same," I say, pulling away from him.

"Although I wouldn't say she's mine," Chris adds, "but this is the Clemmie."

"Small world," Matt says. "Amazing."

"You two know each other?" Julie asks, eying us.

"We had a brief encounter," I answer, "but we kept in touch.”

“Well fantastic,” Julie says. “Enough about that. Back to me.”

Chris laughs at her audacity but I nod my head. “Of course. Father Gabriel is here to conduct the service. The leader of the quartet is here to take notes on your preferences.”

“Fantastic,” she says before bombarding me with a series of questions. Fortunately I know all the answers and we move into the rehearsal with ease. It’s hard not to look at Chris as he’s continuously making the other groomsmen laugh and he keeps smiling at me.

“You did all this?” Julie’s mom asks, sitting next to me on the pew.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

“You’ve done a marvelous job,” she says. “Wonderful!"

"Thank you," I say. Chris has heard the whole thing and he winks at me.

The rest of the rehearsal goes smoothly and Julie is beyond pleased. She and her bridesmaids squeal the whole way out of the sanctuary.

"What are you doing tonight?" Chris asks.

"Going home, taking a nice hot bath while enjoying a large glass of wine and going to bed," I answer.

"So formal?"

I laugh. "I have to work tomorrow, unlike you. I will have to get up early and run this show while your are out playing golf with the men."

"I can see why you would not want my company," he says.

"It's not that," I say, "I would love your company, but you have to go party at the hotel. I know this because I planned all of that aside from the stripper. So go have fun with your friends and we'll hang out tomorrow."

"There's a stripper?"

"I'm not sure," I answer, "but I guess it's good to know that peaked your excitement."

"It didn't," he says with a shrug. "I think the concept is gross, to be honest. I mean, bless the lady and all her assets, but I don’t really want some random woman’s bits all up in my face." I must frown and Chris laughs. "Does that surprise you?"

"Yes and no," I answer. "You're a guy and you're supposed to like boobs and butts, but you're kind of special in that you just don't sleep with women."

"How do you know I just don't sleep with women?"

"Because I know you won't sleep with the stripper, you haven't been anything more than amiable with the bridesmaids and you didn't try to push me when I told you I was going home alone."

"Aren't you observant?"

"My job is in the details," I say, "but I'm glad strippers aren't your thing."

"Me too," he says. “Um, so I will be a gentleman now and let you go your own way. Actually, do you want me to walk you to your car? I don’t know how safe St. Louis is for a lady at night.”

“That would be nice,” I say. “Thank you.”

I grab my keys from my bag and slide the strap over my shoulder. Chris offers me an elbow and I slide my arm through it.

“You look very nice tonight,” he says. “Very professional.”

“That’s how I like to keep it,” I say. “Tomorrow I’ll be in a dress though.”

“And I’ll be in a suit,” he says. “Won’t we be cute?”

I giggle and bite my bottom lip. “I suppose so. I have to let you know I have a super amazing date planned for Sunday, so your Monday better be freaking superb.”

“It will be,” he says. “Don’t you worry about that.”

“I’m not worried,” I say. Chris pushes open the door and lets me slip under his arm. “I’m more excited than anything.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I’m excited too, especially if this date is as amazing as you say it is. I’d be happy to clean up a dog park full of poop as long as I was doing it with you.”

I stop by my car door and turn to face him. He looks so handsome under the street light, yellow rays bending and curling into his dark eyelashes.

“Christopher Robert, you really know how to get a lady’s attention.”

He laughs, his eyes closing and his shoulders rolling forward just a little. “I guess I can see how that’s unromantic. What I meant is I’m just happy to spend time with you.”

“The same,” I say. “Now have a good night and don’t drink too much. Make sure everybody reels it in, too. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

“Yes ma’am,” Chris says. He wraps those sturdy arms around me and I’m reminded of summers spent climbing trees with my siblings and eating apples right off the limb. He is warmth and peace and all things I love about the summer, like serene nights watching fireflies dance among the grass and crickets sing the melodies of their love. He’s the toastiness of a s’more with a marshmallow fresh from the flame and crispness of fresh lemonade when the sun is high in the sky and there’s not a cloud in sight.

“Clemmie, are you okay?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, of course. Why?” I pull back but keep my hands around his waist.

“We were just hugging for an awkwardly long time.”

“Were we? Oops, my bad. I was just committing this to memory.”

“Do you need another one just for posterity?”

“I think that would be helpful,” I say. And in his arms I return to my place of serenity.

The wedding goes off without a hitch and no one has any objections. Julie and Matt are happily wed, the dinner is spectacular, and the reception is perfect. The bride and groom are showered with the light of sparklers as they climb into the back of the limousine.

More remarkable than another beautiful wedding was the fact Chris kept it very short with the other women in the room. He was always polite and danced with whomever, but he never flirted. Not once. Now he sits in a chair at the back of the hall while the cleaning crew mills about, and he smiles at me when I get closer.

"That was great," he says. "A really beautiful wedding. I can't believe you did all that."

"I'm pretty amazing, right?"

"Yeah, who knew you could get an ice sculpture in the shape of tennis shoes?"

"Exactly," I say. I pull my phone out of my bag and press play on the iPod function. "I believe I owe you a dance."

"Please," Chris says, taking my hand. I slip my phone in his breast pocket so we can hear it, and he steps back. He bows, keeping our hands together, and I curtsy in return. "Milady."

I'm not sure what the rules are on falling fast and falling hard, but I am certain I break them all as I follow his lead across the hardwood floor in the darkened corner of the reception hall. 

He laughs as he twirls me out and swings me back in. “Where did you find this song?”

“I have a vast collection of songs commonly used at weddings,” I say. “This particular version — I don’t usually share it with brides because it’s mine.”

“But you’re sharing it with me?”

“It’s good for dancing, isn’t it?”

“Is that all?”

“For now.”

Chris smiles as he cocks his eyebrow. “Fair enough.” He’s not down for long because the chorus sets in. It’s the violin cover of Peter Gabriel’s ‘In Your Eyes,’ and it is quite good for dancing. “In your eyes, the light the heat. In your eyes, I am complete. In your eyes, something something something churches."

“It’s ‘I see the doorway to a thousand churches.’ ”

“The something something fruitless searches.”

“Resolution of all the fruitless searches.”

“In your eyes!”

I laugh, cupping his cheek with my hand. “You do have beautiful eyes.”

“You do too,” he says.

“I feel all floaty with you.”

“Floaty?”

“Yes,” I say, “floaty.”

“Floaty is good, I guess.”

“It is,” I say. “Very good.”

“Would you like to go get a drink now? Coffee or something?”

“Sure,” I say. “That would be wonderful.”

“Fantastic,” he says.

“I’ll drive,” I say. “I know just the place."

“You also have a car here,” he says.

“I do indeed,” I say. “I’m picking you up tomorrow too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, opening my car door. “This is a lovely vehicle you’ve got.”

“Thanks,” I say, “I like it but I don’t own it. It’s a company car.”

“Your company pays for a BMW?”

“Mrs. Morganstern does indeed,” I say. “I got to pick her out though.”

“You did a nice job.”

“I know,” I say. “She’s beautiful.”

Chris laughs as I climb inside my sparkling gray BMW X5, and he closes the door. I drive to my favorite little coffee bar and park on the street, skipping over the valet. Chris runs around, opens my door and helps me out.

“You don’t have to open my door, you know.”

“I know,” he says. “I want to.”

“Thank you very much,” I say.

“You’re so welcome.”

“Now this little place serves coffee drinks and beer, as well as any soda you may want. Do you want something particular?”

“Could I get a Heineken?”

“Of course,” I said. “Find a corner and hunker down.”

Chris disappears around the wall but everyone seems to be too rooted in their own conversations, books and computers to notice. I take our drinks and sit, and Chris holds my hand underneath the table.

Talking with him is easy. I guess it’s because we’ve grown so accustomed to it over the phone that it’s simple in person, only now we get to enjoy nice little touches.

We finish our drinks, and I want nothing more than to lean across the table and kiss him. I don’t yet and instead suggest we go. I take the long way to Chris’ hotel even though we were extremely close, and I think he realizes it when I take the same turn twice.

“Are you taking me in circles?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re a curious person.”

“I am a curious person,” I say, “but I think you mean that like you are curious about me.”

“Both,” he says.

“If you must know,” I say, “I don’t really want to part from you, but I also know it would be bad for me to go to your hotel room or for you to come back to my apartment now.”

“Bad?”

“I like you very much,” I say. "There's no denying that. I am afraid if we went to a place with a bed together, well, things would be moving particularly fast — you know, if you wanted it too — and perhaps in our current situation that's not the best option. My body says, 'hell yes' but my head says, 'heck no.' And that's where we currently are."

"Really? We haven't even kissed yet."

"Something easily remedied," I say.

"But what if you don't like it?"

"Please. I've watched you kiss countless women on screen. You know how to kiss a lady. I think you would find my kissing is perfectly adequate — I've heard no complaints so far."

"Clemmie," he says, "we'll take it slow then. It's not a big deal for me to wait. So stop this time at the hotel and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Aye aye, captain!"

Chris' laugh fills the car and I giggle. I pull up under the awning of his hotel while a valet runs around to open my door.

"I'm just dropping him off," I say, "but I will hug him.”

“Sure,” the guy says.

“Thanks!” I meet Chris at the front of the car and hug him. He feels sturdy and safe, and I smile against his chest. “I’m coming for you at ten.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says. “Should I eat beforehand?”

“Nope,” I say. “We’re brunching.”

“Brunching sounds nice,” he says.

“Good,” I say, “see you then.”

I watch him walk through the double doors before climbing back in my car and driving away. I haven’t made it to the end of the block before my phone chimes.

_What time will you be here? - Chris_

I wait until I’m stopped at a light before texting back.

_Ten. - Clemmie_

_I know. I just wanted to keep talking. - Chris_

_Missed me already? - Clemmie_

_Of course. As soon as I turned around. - Chris_

I smile, dropping my phone in the cup holder as the light changes. I am so giddy I hardly sleep.

Chris looks like a dream in a navy cardigan with a white shirt underneath, jeans and black boots. I can see that damn red belt he’s always wearing peeking out from underneath his shirt.

“Good morning, handsome,” I say as he opens the door.

“Good morning,” he says. “You look pretty.”

“Thank you kindly,” I say. “Are you ready for the best day of your life?”

“Yes,” he says. “What are we going to do?”

“It’s a surprise!” I say. “But I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” he says. I drive through the downtown area to the parking lot, and Chris stares at the serpent statues on either side of the gates. “Why are there snakes?”

“You’ll see,” I say, “but first, we brunch.”

He runs around my car again and helps me out after we park. The meters are down for the weekend so we skip paying and Chris takes my hand as I lead him down the sidewalk.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a place just around the corner here,” I say. “That’s just for brunch.”

“Wonderful,” Chris says. “St. Louis is gorgeous, you know.”

“It is,” I say. “I’m happy to have wound up here.”

“What made you pick Mizzou?”

“Scholarships,” I answer. “I really loved it though. Columbia is a beautiful place. I could take you there sometime if you wanted. There’s this great little pizza place right on the main street. How is Boston?”

“Wonderful,” he says. “If you like St. Louis, you would like Boston.”

“Maybe I’ll make a trip sometime.”

“That would be nice,” he says, “sometime in the future.”

We eat quickly because I am so giddy for what’s next, and Chris seems to pick up on it.

“You’re ready to go,” he says.

“I am,” I say. “I want you to see it.”

“What’s _it_?”

“The City Museum!”

“All this for a museum?” he asks, swinging his arm around my shoulders. “I mean, I like art and all, but a museum?”

“This isn’t your average museum,” I say, practically dragging him down the street. Chris laughs behind me but halts, jerking me back like an anchor.

“Is that a bus on the roof?”

“It is!” I say. “And you can go inside it!”

“What?”

“There’s slides and dragons and an organ and stingrays and turtles and we’re going to have so much fun.”

“All right,” he says. “If you say so.”

“No really,” I say. “Since it’s a Sunday in October, it won’t be as busy, and it’s cooler so a lot of people won’t be outside.”

“I’m game,” he says. And he is. The City Museum is a hodgepodge place with several different donated pieces — a playground for children of all ages.

Chris is mesmerized by the fiberglass hanging from the ceiling like stalactites, and we spend an hour at The World Aquarium. Chris is stopped by a few kids who want to meet Captain America and he happily obliges, thankful his buzzed hair and beard alter his appearance enough to not draw too much attention. Chris buys me a purple pair of shoelaces made at the Shoelace Factory, and we grab a late lunch at the sandwich place inside.

It takes some convincing to talk Chris into the Enchanted Caves since he thinks he might get stuck, but then he realizes their enormity and laughs at himself. He pulls me into a little alcove where a cross between a unicorn and Pegasus stares at us as a group of children run past screaming and cheering.

"This place is so much fun," he says. "Thank you for bringing me."

"You're welcome," I say. "I love sharing it with people who want to see it. Tobias stayed with me for a week during the summer and this is where I brought him. He thought it was amazing."

"So you bring all the boys in your life here?"

"Only the ones I care about."

Chris laughs, both of his hands finding mine.

"I could kiss you right now," I whisper, seeing the way his eyes glisten in the dim light. "I thought maybe you should know first since you'll probably have to agree because it'll take some effort with our height difference."

"You're adorable, Clemmie Rogers," he says, "and I think I would like to kiss you right now, too."

"Yeah?"

He nods, his hands dropping mine to cup my waist and my cheek. I push up on the tips of my toes, resting my hands on his chest for balance... and because his chest is very warm and confortable. Suddenly there's a pit in the bottom of my stomach and his eyelashes flutter like butterflies and he's smiling as he leans in, his hand warm against my cheek. The same bergamot scent takes me away as some more kids run by, their giggles the perfect echo of my stomach.

His lips are soft and warm, the bottom one touching mine before the top. If hugging him is like everything I love about summer, kissing him is like winter. It's like that feeling you get when the whole family is home but no one's fighting, with the promise of things to come while a Michael Bublé song plays softly in the background. The fire crackles and even though snow stands several inches high on the ground, you're completely comfortable and warm in flannel pajamas beneath a plush blanket with warm shea-infused socks on your feet. Marshmallows melt in the hot chocolate sitting on the table. It is perfect.

I think Chris thinks so too because he pulls away for the briefest of moments before letting his lips fall to mine again. I slide my hands up to his neck and his hand on my waist gets a little more grabby while the other slides into my hair. His tongue doesn't even have to prod my lips for permission because I've already granted it to him with an open mouth. He tastes of winter mint, the piece of chewing gum I'd given him living up to its name.

A child's scream rips us apart and we both look down to see the little girl at the entrance of our little cave. "Eww, cooties!"

She disappears just as quickly as we had noticed her and Chris laughs.

"I guess making out in a public place full of children isn't the best idea."

"Probably not," I say, "which I guess leads into in the next part of the plan. I had figured we would stay here until they close at five and then go on to the next activity, but we can go back to my apartment for like an hour if you want instead."

"Really? You would do that."

"To keep kissing you? Definitely."

Chris grins, stealing one more quick kiss. "Let's go back to your place."

We practically sprint down the stairs, through the vast lobby and out the door. The drive back doesn't take as long as I was expecting, and I'm pulling into the parking garage sooner than I thought. I suppose it was good Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald get on the elevator with us, otherwise we might have a made a scene of ourselves for the security guard who would have access to the camera footage. I slide my key in the door and hear it click, only to be greeted by my dog jumping on me and Care and Dixon lounging on the couch.

"Chris is here!" I announce, and Care's face lights up as she climbs off her boyfriend. We shed our shoes at the door and stick them on the rack.

"Chris, hello!" Care says, pulling him into a hug while I scratch Dorota's ears.

"Hi, Care," Chris says, "how are you?"

"Great," she says. "So happy to see you here. This is my boyfriend, Dixon."

They shake hands and exchange a few words but I know Chris' interest is in the big panting creature at my feet.

"And this is Dorota," I say. "The love of my life."

"She's beautiful," Chris says, squatting down to pet her. She seems to know he's good people because she licks his face over and over again, practically knocking him over with her front paws. "I can't believe they were going to put her down."

"I know! Just because she's missing a leg and a uterus doesn't mean she's not the best dog in the whole wide world."

"Wow," Care says, "she likes you."

"I like her too," Chris says. "She's so happy."

And seeing Chris love my dog almost immediately the way I did made me like him that much more.

"Okay," I say, "um, let's you and the dog and myself go to my bedroom?"

"Of course," Chris says, standing up. I hold my hand out to him and Dorota dashes to my side.

"Little study, kitchen, laundry back there, Care's space is on the other side and this is me." I push open the door and wait for it. It's not that everything is a mess, I just have a lot of stuff. The entire far wall is full of cubbies, all crammed with books, comics, records and movies. My dressing mannequin stands in the corner supporting an unfinished piece I’ve been working on, and my fabric bin is practically overflowing next to it. At least I made the bed this morning.

“Wow,” Chris says, pinching the white lace between his fingers, his eyes gazing around the room. “This is quite a lovely room you’ve got.”

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” I quote, not knowing if he’ll catch it.

“I understood that reference,” Chris says, that goofy grin on his face.

“And I understood that one,” I say. “So, this is me. It’s cluttered, I know, but I have a lot of things. The bathroom is there and the closet is here.”

“You have french doors on your closet?”

“Open them.”

I watch as Chris crosses the floor and opens the door, the lights automatically powering on as he does. “Shit, this is bigger than your bedroom.”

“I know,” I said, “it was part of the allure for this apartment.”

“You have a lot of clothes.”

“I’ve been collecting for years,” I say proudly. Chris is now running his finger over the green skirt of my Merida dress. “And a good quarter of that is all handmade costumes.”

“I can see that,” he says. “You’re a fascinating person.”

“Thanks,” I say, “so are you.”

I hold out my hand to him, and he takes it, pulling me to him. “I’m glad I met you.”

“Me, too,” I say, “do you need a drink or anything?”

“Nope,” he says. “I’m doing just fine with you.”

He looks at me with those beautiful eyes and they settle on my lips, and I watch as he drags his bottom lip through his teeth. I push up on my toes and kiss him again, bursting into a fit of giggles because my stomach flutters so much.

“Are you laughing at me?” Chris says between chuckles.

“No,” I answer. “I just really like kissing you. Floaty, you know.”

“Well, how about I put a little weight on it?”

I think his voice just dropped an octave which I didn’t know was possible, and I just nod my head, walking backwards to my bed. I fall onto it and he follows, laying next to me on his side propped on an elbow.

“Your bed is squishy.”

“I know,” I say, “and you just kind of altered the mood.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Chris laughs, throwing his head back a bit. “Can it be salvaged?”

I pull his hand off the bed spread and put it on the curve of my hip. “Definitely.”

“I want you to take this as a compliment because that’s definitely how I mean it,” he says, “but I like how forward you are.”

“Thank you,” I say. “I know what I want and I’m not afraid to try and get it.”

“That’s a noble quality.” He smiles again as he bends over me. It’s good he’s there to hold me down when he kisses me again because I feel electric. Eventually he shifts so he’s resting on both of his elbows halfway over me, and I run my hands along his back and up into his hair. Only when Dorota jumps up on the bed to join the fun do we part.

“If I didn’t think you would like what I had planned next,” I say, “I would just cancel it but we kind of have people waiting for us.”

“People?”

“People,” I say. “And I have a gift for you.”

“For me?” Chris asks, a hand going to his chest like he doesn’t believe me.

“Yes,” I say. I run to the front door and grab my bag, pulling his gift out of it. I take my own purchase out of bag to and hand his to him. He grins as he sits up and takes it. “Now, I know the Pats are your team, and I know how important Sunday football is to you and I’ve made you spend your entire day with me, but I thought maybe you would want to take in a game.”

Chris’ face lights up as he pulls the St. Louis Rams jersey from the bag along with an undershirt to match. “We’re going to a Rams game?”

“It just so happens that running back Tiki Mahomes was married earlier this year and I planned the whole thing. His wife Phaedra just so happens to adore me, so you and I have tickets on the 50 next to her and Tiki’s brother.”

“We’re going to a Rams game?”

“If you want.”

“If I want?” Chris asks, popping off my bed. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me up. “You’re already the best girlfriend I’ve ever had. Can I call you my girlfriend?”

“Yes please." 


	4. Chapter 4

"It's really tight!" Chris says, hunching over to fit in the little cubby. His one plan for his day date was to see the Gateway Arch, and he didn't realize how little the shuttle car was.

"It is, big boy," I laugh, climbing in after him. He squeezes into one of the sides and I sneak beneath his arm which he wraps around my shoulders. "I don't have a problem fitting."

"It's because you're tiny," he says, trying to find a comfortable way to slouch because he's too tall. An elderly couple and a boy climb in in after us and thankfully they direct the boy to the awkward seat in the middle. The little boy looks at Chris and then at his grandfather and back at Chris.

"Cap?"

"Yes sir," Chris says.

The kid's eyes double in size and he grabs his grandfather's knee.

"Grandpa, it's Captain America!"

"Captain America? What?" The grandmother asks.

"I'm an actor, ma'am," Chris says politely. It's the most Steve Rogers I've heard him sound since meeting him. "I've been in a couple super hero movies."

“Well, you’re certainly handsome enough to be a super hero,” she says.

Chris’ cheeks pinken and he chuckles. “Well, I don’t know about that but thank you very much.”

“Cap, did you find Bucky?”

“I did,” Chris answers, “you’ll see him soon.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yeah,” Chris answers. “He’s going to be just fine, but don’t tell anybody, okay? HYDRA is still after us both.”

“Of course!” the little boy says. “I met Captain America!”

“You did,” Chris laughs.

"Could we get a picture?" The woman says.

"Of course," Chris says. The kid jumps on Chris' lap just as the doors slide closed and the voice starts explaining the rules. The woman snaps the picture and Chris high fives the kid just as we start moving. The boy jumps back in his seat and stares at Chris. "Wow, that's going faster than I thought it would."

"Is this your first time?" The man asks.

"Yes," Chris answers, "I've been to St. Louis but never up here so I thought it would be a good time to see it."

"It's wonderful," the woman says. "It's Jack's first time too."

"I'm going to see the world!" Jack, the boy, says. "We're going up, up, up!"

"We are," Chris says, grabbing my hand suddenly like he's a little uncomfortable.

"You okay?"

He nods quickly and blinks a few times.

"You're in that movie about the train, aren't you?" The man says, squinting his eyes.

"Yes, that was me," Chris says.

"Wow," the man says. "That was such a great film."

"Thank you," Chris says. "I'm really proud of it."

"So are you liking St. Louis?" The woman asks.

"Actually," Chris says, looking at me, "I am loving it here. It's such a cool town."

"It is," she says. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay."

"I'm sure I will," Chris says. Silence falls over the cart as we keep going up, and then we're braking. The doors slide open and Jack is the first one out. "We have to ride down in one of these things?"

"Indeed," I say. "Usually there are fewer people going down though so we might be able to get in one that's not full."

"How many times have you been up here?"

"Five or six," I say. "Everyone who comes to visit wants to see it."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I say, taking his hand and leading him up the steps towards the viewing part of the arch. "It's a different experience each time. Look out the window."

"Holy crap!" Chris says, finally taking his eyes off me. "We are really high up."

"The gateway to the west," I say. "You have to be up high to see all that progress."

It's definitely more fascinating to watch him than look out the windows, especially since I've been up here so many times. He leans forward towards the glass and I can definitely appreciate the angle.

"God, everything is so small," he says. "All those people. Us."

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks, resting his forehead pressed against his arm as he leans against the metal frame. My boyfriend is the stuff of fiction except he's real and likes me.

There's a loud thunk and then a wail, and I look down to see a toddler crying at my feet. She must have run into the wall and fallen over, and I dip down to her side immediately. It's like second nature having dealt with my fair share of screaming babies at weddings, bridal shops and tastings, and I cup my hand around her little head and lift her up. She stops screaming and sobs instead, her brown eyes searching me.

"Hi cutie," I say softly. "Did you hit your head?"

She nods a little, her eyes still wandering over my face.

"You're okay," I say, cupping her cheek. She smiles then and reaches up to touch my chin. A man frantically runs towards us, his face one of shock. "Can you stand up, pretty lady?"

She nods and I set her on her feet. She smiles at me and turns when her father calls her name. She toddles to him with arms outstretched and he lifts her up, kissing her head.

"Thank you so much," he says. "We've got five and this one got away."

"You're welcome," I say. "I'm one of seven so I know how it goes. Have a good day."

I wave at the little girl as she waves back over his shoulder, and I sigh as I straighten up. The way Chris is looking at me with one corner of his lips turned up makes me blush, and I smile as I nudge his arm.

"You should see the other side," I say. He nods, keeping the same smile as I slide my fingers back through his. We move across the little walkway and look out the windows at the water below. A couple of ships move about, but it's generally calm. I lean against his arm while he stares out the pane.

"It's amazing," he says finally. "All of this is amazing."

"It really is," I say. "Kind of peaceful, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he says. "You ready to go back down?"

"Sure," I say.

"We should take a picture first," he says. "My mom will want to see this."

"Your mom knows about me?"

"She knows I stayed to see you after the wedding," he says, slipping his phone out of his pocket. "She knows I like you. Do your parents know about me?"

"They know I've been talking to a guy named Chris who's in the movie business."

I slide under his arm and we smile as he takes the picture.

"That's all you told them?"

"For now," I answer. "I didn't want to get them all excited if we weren't anything."

"Oh?"

"It's been awhile since I've been serious with anyone," I say, following Chris as he weaves through people to the other bay of elevators. "They will be really happy but really concerned at the same time so I decided to wait."

The worker points us to an elevator lane and we stand in front of the door, so far the only two people to do so.

"Will you tell them now?"

"I will," I answer. "I'll tell them we're a couple now but we're taking things slowly. And I might tell them exactly who you are."

"How will they feel about that?"

"Dad'll think it's great," I say. "I'm not sure about mom."

"Well,"Chris says, cupping my hip with his big hand, "I am glad that's a start."

"It is," I say. "I think you would love my parents."

"Yeah?"

"Everybody does except strict conservatives," I answer. "They're living hippies."

"Really?"

"Well, kind of," I answer. "They grow their own garden and keep chickens and cows for their own eggs and dairy — they'll never personally kill any of them, but they have them. They believe in peace and clean energy and all those good things."

"Sounds like nice people."

"They are," I say, slipping my hand in his as we move to the other side of the arch. I was right in my thinking there would be fewer people heading down, and we get our own elevator. We take a picture inside of it too, and Chris slides his arm around me.

"So do you want to tell me why your parents would be concerned or do you want to spend our time in this elevator doing something else?"

"Are you going to be able to do something else or do you need the answer first?"

"Short answer."

"My relationships in the past have not been good. I was engaged once but that clearly didn't work out. I can be trusting and end up getting taken advantage of. Is that enough for now?"

"You were engaged?"

"Yes," I answer. "I was 22, we'd been together for two years, it seemed like a good idea, he's a senator's son and an asshole, and that's that. I'm over it and him, but now I know what I really want."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Chris nods. "It's safe to say I don't have the best track record. I've been in and out of relationships and I get it. So for now, that's enough."

"For now?"

"When you're ready to tell me, you will."

The voice comes over the speakers with the instructions and Chris smiles.

“You’re really chill, you know?"

“Thank you,” he says. “I mean, I know we’re just at the beginning of this thing — us. We could be nothing, something or everything, and I know we’re going to have to get through some stuff before we ever decide that we’re for each other — if that ever even happens. I second guess myself a lot which is something you’ll learn if you don’t already know. We’ll cross bridges when we get to them. But the one thing I do know is that I enjoy kissing you."

“I enjoy kissing you,” I say, leaning into him.

He tips my chin up with one of his fingers so our noses are lightly touching. My mouth drops open with the anticipation but he lingers just far enough away. “Good. We have that working for us."

He kisses me softly at first, his hand on my knee, and then I’m being tugged onto his lap. I hum appreciatively when his hand slides around to my bum as his tongue teases mine. I sigh when the rhythmic clicking of the elevator stops, and Chris smiles when he pulls away.

“Too short of a ride,” I say, booping his nose. The door slides open and I spring from his lap. He follows me out and I hold my hand out for him to take. “What else did you have planned for today?"

“Honestly?"

“Honestly." I slip beneath his arm as he holds open the door. It's a crisp, fall morning and I breathe it in.

“Nothing.” he says. “I thought I could plan something, but then I thought it would be something unreasonably touristy so I figure I should leave it up to you. Now, when you come to Boston, we’ll do the touristy history things because you have to, but then I’ll take you to the best spots."

“Deal,” I say. “You like baseball? We can go to Fenway and look around. I don’t know when they do tours but we can see when we get there."

“You don’t have to take me to sports things,” he says. “We can do whatever."

“I like sports things some,” I say. “Brewery then?"

“Yes. I like that very much."

“And I happen to know they’re giving tours,” I say. "You want a small one or the Anheuser-Busch?"

"Will the horses be there?"

"Maybe?"

"Take me wherever you want to go."

"Oh, you shouldna said that," I giggle. "I'm stringing you up in my dungeon and never letting you go."

Chris rocks forward with laughter and he squeezes my hip. "You think you could string me up?"

"I think you would be surprised," I say, pushing him up against my car. "I'm stronger than I look."

His hands wrap around my waist and he pulls me against him. “I don’t doubt that, button. I’m pretty sure you can take care of yourself. I'm curious though — does the thought of stringing me up interest you?"

Heat rushes to my cheeks and I giggle. "I hadn't actually consciously thought about it until it was out. Sometimes my mouth says things before my brain processes them. I don't have a dungeon."

"I didn't think you would," he laughs. "Oh Clemmie Rogers, I like you a lot."

“We should go,” I say, “I’l have to build you a dungeon if we stay here in this moment any longer."

Chris kisses me once quickly before I peel myself away from him. I really just want to keep him up against the car and kiss him until our lips fall off. There’s something about the way his hands feel on me and the way his lips taste like winter. I really want to kiss him.

“You okay, button?” Chris asks.

I lick my lips and nod. “Yep. Let’s go."

“I feel like I told you several times last night,” Chris says as we get in my car, “but I really liked the Rams game. That was incredible."

“I like being there,” I say. “it’s always more fun to be in the moment than watching it on TV."

“True,” he says. “Tiki and Phaedra were great too."

“I know,” I say. “She’s so much fun. Their wedding was one of my favorite ones."

“I bet it was amazing if you did it.” he says.

“You’ve only been to one of my weddings,” I say, “and that one was your standard run-of-the-mill weddings. Now Phaedra and Tiki, they know how to party,"

“Well maybe I can come up for one of your more elaborate ones and observe."

“I would like that,” I say. “That would be fun to have you there, although you might want to bring a date as I’m not allowed to fraternize, you know."

“Damn,” Chris laughs. “no fraternizing with you. I’ll bring my mom."

“You’re so cute,” I say. He rests his hand on my leg across the console. “I’m glad you were able to make it here."

“Me too,” he says. “It’s been a fun time."

“It has,” I say.

“How are we going to make this work?"

“Let’s not worry about that yet,” I say. “We’ll figure that out."

Anheuser-Busch gives us a private tour for free since Chris allows them to take his picture, and I have more fun watching him freak out about the mechanics of the brewery rather than the beer itself. The little brewery we visit next gives us lunch and Chris admits he likes it better. He buys a pack to drink tonight and sets up a delivery plan so he can receive some while he's in Boston.

"Can I take you one more place?" I ask when we're back in the car. "We don't have to stay long."

"Of course," he says. "I'm yours to do with as you please."

I giggle as I pull out of the parking lot. The drive is a long one but Chris tells me of all his plays he did as a kid. It's fascinating to hear and I can't wait to see him in action.

I take his hand as he helps me out of the car and I grin. "Don't get the wrong idea, but this is important to me. It probably won't mean much to you, but I would like for you to see it."

"Clemmie, I'm sure it's great."

We walk by the window and I hold my breath, the white dress made of lace and chiffon looking pristine in the window.

"Wedding dresses!" Chris cheers, his mouth going wide.

"She's mine," I say, pointing at the one on display.

"She is?"

"Yes," I say. "I placed every one of those stitches by hand. The lace work was sewn delicately into place by the fingers you're holding."

"Wow," he says. "That's amazing."

"There are more inside," I say, “if you want to see them."

“Of course,” he says. “I would love that."

I push open the door and the bell dings overhead. “Clemmie!"

Amy, the manager of the shop, waddles around the desk. She’s pregnant, and her belly precedes the rest of her. She smiles and hugs me, her eyes then going to Chris.

“This is Chris,” I say, “my boyfriend. I brought him to look at some of the dresses. Chris, this is Amy. Her mother owns the shop."

“Nice to meet you!” Amy says, going to hug Chris too. He leans down and wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, “and congratulations."

“Oh thank you,” she says, rubbing her abdomen. “This one’s been quite a bit more active than his sister so it’s been tough. We have an appointment in the back and another in fifteen minutes if you want to look around undisturbed."

“Thanks,” I say. “We won’t be in the way."

“Of course not,” she says. “You’re never in the way, Clemmie."

I pull Chris to the wall — my wall — and smile. The dresses still hang perfectly, a few of them looking a little worse for wear having been tried on a few times, but they are gorgeous. The tags all have my name on them, ‘Clementine Rogers,’ and shivers run through my body looking at them, my collection.

“Clemmie, they’re beautiful,” he says, twisting one delicately on its hanger so he can see it better. “You did all of these?"

“I did,” I say. “And these are just the samples so anytime a bride wants to buy one, I make one just for her.” I take the very last one and hold it out. “This one’s my favorite."

“I like that one,” he says. “It reminds me of you."

This dress is made of French lace and I’ve added delicate gemstones throughout that catch the light just the right way. It’s a princess wedding dress with the slightest V-neck and long, sheer lace sleeves. It’s some of my finest work with a belt and ruched skirt, and it’s a magical dress that looks amazing on every one who tries it on.

“It’s elegant, I think."

Chris nods, watching me. “I like seeing your work."

“Thanks,” I say, “I like seeing yours."

He smiles at me as we look through the others, and then Amy appears. “She’s got on Maggie if you want to come see."

“She does?” I ask. “Yes, I would love to see! Do you want to go or do you want to stay up here?"

“I’ll go,” Chris says, “if that’s appropriate."

“That’s fine,” Amy says. “Everybody’s dressed."

We pass through racks of dresses before walking down the hallway to the back. The place is lined with mirrors and a couch sits behind the pedestal. Alexandra, the sales associate, smiles when she sees me. She’s holding the dress in place on the bride or she would hug me.

“Jackie, this is the designer, Clemmie Rogers,” she says, grinning over the bride’s shoulder. She introduces us to the bride’s mother and matron of honor, and I introduce Chris.

“You made this?” Jackie asks, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror.

“I did,” I say, “and you wear it better than I could have ever imagined it."

“It’s gorgeous,” she says, “I feel how I’m supposed to feel."

“That’s excellent,” I say. “You’re stunning."

“Oh, thank you! Mama, do you like this one?"

“You know I do,” the bride’s mother says. “It’s breathtaking."

“We can get you in a veil,” Amy says. “If you want to see how that would look."

“Please,” Jackie says. I lean into Chris' side as they mill about the shop, picking out the veil I created with the same lace. He wraps his arm around me and kisses the top of my head until they're finished getting everything into place.

"What do you think?" Alexandra asks.

Jackie can't speak because she's crying, and I smile. Chris rubs my side, pulling me closer to him even though it seems impossible.

"It's absolutely perfection," the matron of honor says. "I wish my dress had been as beautiful as this one."

She and Jackie laugh as Jackie wipes her cheeks. "I honestly can't handle it. I feel amazing."

"Clemmie, you can have the honors," Amy says.

"Jackie, are you saying yes to the dress?"

"Yes! I'm saying yes to the dress!"

There's a collective cheer and I feel wonderful. It's my dream to give brides their perfect dress for the big day, and Jackie is one of those women. I hug her before she and Alexandra go back to the changing room, and Amy gives me her measurements so I can get to work on her dress.

"That was magical," Chris says when we leave after another round of hugs. "Like, I know how big a deal the dress is, and you just made her dreams come true. Her eyes lit up and everything."

"That's why I do it," I say, "and I'm glad you got to see it."

"Me too. What now?"

"Would you want check out of your hotel tonight and stay with me? You know, in a no expectations, minimal contact sort of way."

"Yes," he says, "let me go pack up and we'll go."

Taking Chris back to my apartment for the night is making me giddy. I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, and Chris is staring out the window intently. Spending the night together in my apartment gives him more time to know me. He'll be able to look through my things and see how I function when I wake up the morning. He'll brush his teeth at my sink and hopefully let me curl into his side when I sleep. It's all very intimate. I just didn't want to be alone when I could be with him.

Care is gone but Dorota greets us happily, and she follows us to my room. Chris drops his bag and looks around again, taking in everything there is to see.

"Would you like to take Dorota on a walk with me?" I ask.

"I would love that," Chris says, kneeling to pet her head. "She's so pretty."

"I know," I say. "I tell her every day."

She was born without a uterus and her back left leg never grew beyond a nub, and the vet removed it when she was a puppy. She was from a Bernese Mountain breeding farm, and they were going to put her down unless someone would rescue her. She was the biggest love sponge I had ever met in my life, and taking her was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

I slide her halter into place and clipped on the leash while she lapped at Chris' neck and chin.

We walk on the sidewalk, bundled in coats and scarves as October is growing colder.

"You asked how we could make this work," I say, "and I think we just have to try."

"And what did you have in mind?"

"I can start taking fewer weddings."

"Clemmie, you can't do that."

"Why not?" I say, "I take more than enough as it is, I have plenty saved up, and I could try to come see you."

"That's a nice thought, Clemmie," he says, "but I can't ask you to give up your career."

"I'm not giving it up," I say, "I'm cutting back. This will give me more time to do my dresses anyway. Tina is ready to be more than an assistant — we can start splitting the load."

"Are you sure? I only want you to do this if you're sure."

"I think so," I say. "It'll have to wait until the new year because I'm all booked up, but I do have Thanksgiving and Black Friday off if you'd be willing for me to fly to Boston."

"Would I be willing? Hell, I'd pay for it! Please let me pay for it."

"What would we do for Thanksgiving?"

"I was planning on going to my mom's. Are you ready to meet my mom?"

"Yes," I say, "I could, and if that's the case, all we need is a guest room and three plates at your mother's table."

“What?"

"I'll have Harrison fly me," I say. “My family doesn’t traditionally gather for Thanksgiving so he'll be fine with flying me, and he'll just want to bring Paris. If you have a guest room for them and your mom won't mind three more people, we'll be set."

"What about Dorota?"

"Can I bring her?"

"Yes, please do."

"Chris!" I stand on my toes and wrap my arms around his neck."I'm so excited!"

He kisses me happily and Dorota barks.

We order dinner from Panera Bread and spend the evening lounging on the couch, just touching each other every now and then.

"I need a shower," I say. "Please make yourself at home. Drink some beer. Pet Dorota. Do whatever."

Chris nods as I kiss him once more before slipping off to the bathroom. I shower quickly, wash my face and pull on my pajamas. When I find Chris, he's sitting at the counter in the kitchen, laughing with Dixon and Care.

I get butterflies when he sees me because his smile stretches all the way up to his eyes. He looks at me like I am the most amazing creature in the world, even though I'm completely bare faced and my hair is wet.

"Hey button," he says, holding up his arm which I slide underneath. He's warm and smells good. He's changed into a crimson Henley and a pair of flannel pants, and this feels incredibly right.

"Well, we'll be off," Dixon says, tugging on Care's arm and pulling her back to her bedroom.

"Goodnight, lovers!" I call after them, and Care looks over her shoulder with the most magnificent grin. She and Dixon are two of my favorite people, and they make each other better.

"You look beautiful," Chris says, his around my waist. "And you smell so good, like spiced pumpkin."

"It's my shampoo!" I say. "It's a seasonal thing. And thank you for saying I look beautiful."

"I'm not just saying it. You are beautiful."

"Thanks," I say. "You want to watch a movie?"

Chris nods, and he follows me to my bedroom. I flick through the DVR menu and he laughs.

"What?"

"Why do you have a million episodes of Vikings?"

"Because it's amazing! Everybody on that show can get it." I say. "Have you ever watched it?"

"No," he says, "but I'll put it on my list."

I giggle and switch it over to Netflix. I turn on the lamp next to my bed and turn off the light. "Find something."

I run to the kitchen and get two bottles of water and a treat for Dorota. She eats it happily from her bed in the corner and I flop down next to Chris. He selects the Disney version of Robin Hood, and I kiss his jaw when it starts. I crawl under the sheets and he does the same after shedding his shirt, and we're back to being curled around each other.

He has to know 'watch a movie' is code for 'kiss each other senseless,' right?

He's gazing at the screen, his fingers on my hip lightly drumming but not doing anything more. His lips catch the light and I sigh, wanting to taste them. Instead I press my lips to his neck and he coos with want.

"Keep watching the movie," I mutter against his skin. I swing my leg over him so I'm straddling his hips, and I kiss the freckles on his neck. His chest is the most perfect chest I've ever seen, and I make sure he knows it by covering it with my lips. I drag my tongue along the lines of his abs and run my fingers through the short dark hair running beneath his belly button and disappearing under his pants. Nibbling at his hip finally gets him to moan, and I smile before kissing his navel.

Chris grabs my arms and gently but swiftly pulls me upwards. He kisses me sloppily and sweetly, and I moan as both of his hands slide to my bottom, each grasping a cheek gratefully. He truly is an ass man.

I gasp when he rolls us over, sinking between my legs. He nips at my neck, one hand firmly on my hip and the other in my hair.

I feel safe and content beneath him, like being with him is sitting in the sunshine on a peaceful spring day in a field of wildflowers, a breeze in my hair. He feels like home.

Putting my hands on either side of his face, I smile as he looks at me.

"I want to make this work," he says. "I really do."

I nod, pulling him back down for a kiss. Sliding his hand beneath my shirt, his fingers rest right along my rib cage, heating my skin.

Dorota barks, and we both jump with a start.

"Sorry," I say. "It's been a long time since I've had a man in my bed."

"Does she sleep up here?"

"Sometimes if she feels like it or if I'm sad."

"I don't want to take her spot," he says.

"You're not," I say. I pat the bed next to my leg and she jumps happily up next to us. Chris rolls off of me and pets her head.

“We should slow down anyway,” he says. “Too much too soon could ruin this."

“Can we keep kissing?"

Chris pulls my shirt down so it covers all my skin and rubs the place where it rests. “Yes, let’s keep kissing."


	5. Chapter 5

Time passes so slowly after I drop Chris off at the airport. I spend more time at the office because of the holiday weddings and because Mrs. Morganstern has agreed to cutting my hours if I oversee Tina in her advancement. I spend my nights making Jackie’s dress. Chris and I talk every day and I’ve even gotten in the habit of letting him talk to Dorota for a few seconds.

Now I’m riding shotgun with Care as she takes me to the private airport and Dorota paces happily in the back seat.

“Are you excited?"

“Yes and no,” I say. “I’m nervous."

“Why?"

“I’m meeting his family,” I say. “I mean, I know he met all of mine that day at the Con but there wasn’t much time for them to really meet. But now I’ll spend hours with his family and what if they don’t like me?"

“They’re assholes if they don’t like you,” she says. “You’re one of the best people I know."

“I know,” I say, “but I’m not dating your son and cuddling with him at night. Wouldn’t that make you more defensive?"

“Chris is a grown man who can take care of himself,” she says. “If he didn’t want to be with you, he wouldn’t be."

Care parks her car and we get my bags out of the trunk. “Goodbye, Clemmie. I hope you have the most fantastic Thanksgiving. You’ll be fine."

“Thank you,” I say. “I hope you and Dixon have a wonderful Thanksgiving too."

“Of course,” she says. “I’ll stay until you take off."

“You don’t have to, but thanks. Love you."

“Love you too, boo. Squeeze that hot man’s ass for me, will you?"

I giggle as the sliding doors open and I pull my suitcase behind me while Dorota runs in front of me on her leash. We walk through the little lobby and out the far door. Harrison strolls towards me all cool and collected, and he smiles when he sees me.

“Clemmie!” he says, hugging me. “You’re looking well."

“You too,” I say. “I’m really glad you could do this."

“Me too,” he says, taking my suitcase. “I dropped the Hansons off in New York yesterday and don’t have to pick them up until Sunday so we’re golden."

“Perfect,” I say. “I also hope you don’t mind meeting Chris’ family."

“No way,” he says. “Someone’s got to be rooting for you in all of this and it might as well be me. Plus, you know they’ll be inspecting you so I’ll be able to inspect them."

“Nerd,” I say. He swings his arm around me and laughs.

“Dorota looks lovely today."

“She just got groomed,” I say. “I thought this was a big day for her so she should pretty."

“Indeed,” he says, unlocking the little door in the plane’s rear. He slides my luggage inside and locks it again. “You can go on up. Paris has opened a bottle of wine already if you’re interested."

“Sounds perfect to me,” I say, watching as Dorota slowly takes the steps into the plane. I climb up after her and Paris lights up.

“Clemmie Rogers!” she cheers, her glass of wine sloshing onto her hand. “I’m so excited we get to do this for Thanksgiving. How much fun!"

“I’m glad you and Harrison will be able to join me,” I say.

“And we’re going to meet your boyfriend’s family!” she says.

“We are,” I say. “I hope it’s okay."

“It’ll be fine,” she says, grabbing the bottle of wine. Seconds later she’s shoving a glass in my hand.

“Clemmie, you remember Rob?"

“Of course,” I say. “Hi, Rob."

“Hey chica,” he says. Rob is the definition of a free spirit who got his pilot license just to travel. He never makes arrangements for where the flight is going because he prefers to experience the city. He makes an excellent copilot for this reason and doesn’t require much to fly.

Harrison gets everything ready for take off, and a few hours later we’re landing smoothly at the private airport in Boston. A shiny gray Lexus waits under the awning of the business center, and my boyfriend leans against the door. I wait for Harrison to park the plane on the side of the little airport and he and Rob get out first to secure the wheels. Paris is quite tipsy now, and Harrison runs around to help her down the steps. Chris is there when I lead Dorota to the door, and he easily lifts her and sets her down on the ground.

“Thank you,” I say, climbing out last. Rather than stepping on the ground, I jump into Chris’ arms and wrap mine around his neck. He laughs and kisses my cheek, holding me tightly.

“Hello gorgeous,” I say before kissing him briefly. He smiles as he cups the back of my head with one of his large hands.

“Hi Button,” he says. “Did you have a good flight?"

“It was fine,” I say.

“Where’s the luggage going?” Rob asks, all of our bags draped along his arms.

“Oh, it’ll go in the Lexus,” Chris says. “It’s unlocked."

Rob nods and heads back towards the main building while Harrison signs off on all the landing paperwork with the aids from the airport. When he finishes, Chris leads us all towards the car where Rob waits.

“You cool, man?” Harrison asks.

“Of course, bro,” he says. “I’m in Boston. I’m going to sleep under the Liberty Bell or something."

Chris cocks his head to the side, his mouth open to say something, but I squeeze his hand and shake my head.

“Right on,” Harrison says. “We’ll see you in a few days. Stay safe."

“Always do, dude.” Rob grins at us before walking into the business center.

“You let that guy fly your plane?” Chris asks, opening the back door for Dorota.

“He’s an excellent pilot,” Harrison says. “He passes all of his tests every time and hasn’t failed me yet. He’s easy to get, too, since he lives as a drifter. So his geography could use a little work — what’s it matter?"

“Wait, the Liberty Bell isn’t here?” Paris asks, laughing as she misses the little step into the car and falls onto the seat.

“It’s in Philadelphia,” I say. “But these are all important parts of American history so I guess we can forgive him. Do you two mind if Do rides back here with you?"

“Not at all,” Paris shouts, leaning against the window. With any luck, she’ll be asleep by the time we start driving. I take Dorota to the little flower bed by the business center and let her do her business. I pull a bag from my purse and clean up after her, tossing it in the trash can outside the doors.

“Let me put her in the car and use the restroom really quickly,” I say, “and then we’ll go."

“Of course,” Chris says, kissing me again. “I’ll take her if you want to go on inside."

“You sure?"

He nods.

Chris is standing by the passenger door when I come out of the center, and he grins at me. “I’m so excited you’re here."

“I’m so excited we made this happen,” I say. “I can’t wait to see your house."

“Eh, don’t get too excited,” Chris laughs. “But I’m happy you’ll be staying in it with me."

“Me, too,” I say, standing on my toes and kissing him. He grins and then Paris knocks on the window. “I guess we should be off."

“I thought I could take you to my house so we can drop off your stuff and Do, and then we’ll go to dinner."

“Sounds great,” I say, ducking under his arm to get in his car.

Chris’ house is actually in a smaller town just outside of Boston, and I’m practically buzzing with excitement as we pull through the gates of his neighborhood. We pass house after house of beautiful Victorian structures, each painted in the most beautiful colors. I can’t wait to see what his looks like.

“Here she is,” he says, turning into the driveway of a nice cream colored home with dark brown trim. It’s simple, beautiful and elegant, and the perfect look of Chris. The front window is a lovely arched one, and I can’t wait to see what it looks like with the morning sun streaming through. He pulls into the garage and my eyes widen at his collection of motorcycles parked pristinely in formation.

“You can let Dorota out that door,” Chris says. “The yard is half an acre so she’ll have plenty of room to run around. She’ll be able to get in and out of these dog doors."

“Perfect,” I say, unhooking her halter and letting her out the door. Chris disarms the alarm, and he takes my luggage from Harrison while I grab my backpack.

“Welcome to my home,” Chris says, pushing back the door for us. “If you don’t mind leaving your shoes here, I would appreciate that."

We all shuffle out of our shoes and leave them in racks. “This is the mudroom. Through here is the den, as I call it. It’s an informal living room.” The room is a lovely shade of ivory with a chair rail all around the walls, the wainscoting beneath a chocolate brown. Wood flooring stretches from wall to wall and the whole room is simply beautiful. “I had it remodeled when I bought it but I didn’t want to lose all of the character.” The furniture is tan suede and looks incredibly comfortable, all situated towards the TV above the fire place. “My man cave, if you will. This is where I watch football most of the time. Now through here is the formal living room. Feel free to borrow a book.” And I want to — the entire wall is covered from floor to ceiling with books. I want to see all their titles and stroke every spine. The wainscoting in here is a nice calming green, and the furniture is dark leather. I could spend hours in here. “An office is back there, and there’s a powder room around the corner. My home is your home as long as you are here. Those stairs go to the basement where there’s a media center, recreation room and game room, a guest room and a full bath. You two can stay down there if you want. It’s great for sleeping. Now, if you want to go upstairs, we can really see life."

“Where’s your kitchen?” Paris asks.

“You’ll see,” Chris says, leading us up the stairs. We end up in the dine-in kitchen, a beautiful wooden table with eight plates and chairs waiting to be used. The kitchen is what gets me though. The walls are a pale buttery yellow, and the custom cabinets are a surprisingly nice pea green. Everything is phenomenally decorated, and I run my fingers over the black granite countertops. “This is amazing."

“All for the view,” Chris says, nodding at the window. Trees stretch in every direction before us, their leaves a perfect mix of reds and yellows, and it is amazing.

“This is beautiful,” I say, taking it all in. Double ovens, a gas stove, stainless steel refrigerator — it’s a chef’s dream. “I’m in love with your kitchen."

“It’s quite wonderful,” Chris says. “There are few things better than coming in here and getting a cup of coffee in the morning."

“I can’t wait,” I say. He takes my hand, kisses my fingers and leads me down the hallway.

“Guest bath and laundry,” he says. “Guest bedroom, bathroom, guest bedroom number two up here, and this is my room."

He opens the only door on the left side of the hall, and I see why he saved it for last. It’s incredible. I can see his master bathroom with two doors leading into it, one on either side of a fireplace, and then there’s the bed. It’s got the most plush looking comforter on it, a gray color looking like a storm cloud, and I want to be in it. The walls are dark blue gray, but more amazing are the glass doors opening onto the deck.

“You can go outside from here?” Harrison asks.

Chris nods as he pulls open the door. “The other door that goes out is in the kitchen. I love coming out here in the morning too."

“This is my favorite thing,” I say, “forget the kitchen."

Chris laughs. “I’m glad you like it. So where would anybody like to sleep?"

“We can stay up here,” Harrison says. “Point us to which ever bed is better."

“They have the same mattresses,” Chris says, “each with a memory foam pad on top. This one is the one my mom stays in when she visits. It’s got the skylight."

It’s a very pristine room with lavender walls, timeless white bedding and furniture, and gray and black accents.

“This room is pretty, too,” I say.

“You can tell my mother you liked it,” Chris says. “She did this one herself. The other bedroom has fewer windows."

The other bedroom I already know is the one they’re going to pick because it seems more like a sexy room. The walls are dark brown, the huge headboard is a velvet tan pleated thing with several pillows propped against it. This is definitely the room they’ll want.

“TV drops down,” Chris says, “just use the remote on the nightstand."

“That’s amazing,” Harrison says. “Like I’ve seen some cool shit in my day but that’s amazing."

I grin at my brother and reach up to ruffle his curly brown hair.

“Who’s hungry?” Chris asks.

“I am!” Paris pipes.

“Let’s go get food then."

We eat dinner at a little place Chris likes — they’re serving homemade pot roast with little russet potatoes and green beans mixed with almond slivers. It’s delicious, and I feel toasty all over sitting next to him in the booth.

“I think I should get her to bed,” Harrison says, supporting Paris as we get back to the house. She enjoyed a few more drinks at dinner and will probably feel it in the morning.

“Do you need help?” I ask.

“Nope,” he says, “we’ll make it."

“We’ll be jussssss fineeee,” Paris slurs, throwing her head out wildly.

“Good night,” Chris says. Harrison nods and helps her up the stairs.

“She’s doesn’t normally drink this much,” I say. “She gets really nervous in front of new people and today she chose to alleviate that problem with alcohol. The good thing is this means she got it out of her system today and won’t drink tomorrow around your family."

He laughs. “I wasn’t worried about her being around my family. I guess I should leave out the hangover kit in case she needs it."

“That would be nice,” I say, opening the back door to let Dorota out again. She really loves having a yard to play in. Maybe I should look into finding a place with a spot just for her. “You have a really beautiful home. Like, stunning."

“I like it,” he says, “it’s kind of big for just me, but I do love it. Maybe I should look into getting another dog to keep me company."

“That would be nice,” I say. “You’ve got such a big yard."

“I know,” he says. “I should put it to use aside from when you’re here."

I smile and wrap my arms around his neck. “I hope to come here more often. I think Do does too."

“I hope you to have you here more often,” he says. “I was hoping I could get you here and you’d never want to leave."

“I’m mostly convinced."

“You haven’t seen the bathroom yet."

“What’s so special about the bathroom?"

“Just wait,” he says, “we have to let Do in."

I open the door and yell her name out into the night, and I hear the tags on her collar jingling before I see her. She dashes into the house and runs right towards the water bowl Chris had set out for her.

“She’s fine,” I say. “Let’s go see the bathroom."

Chris chuckles at my delight but leads me up the stairs. I skip through his bedroom and to the door. He was right — the bathroom is by far the best thing about the house. Porcelain tile stretches across the floor and the double vanity is beautiful with white cabinetry. The toilet is tucked off the side, discretely behind a little half wall, but the tub is the kicker.

“This fits two people, doesn’t it?” I ask. “That’s amazing. And it’s got those jets."

“You can make it feel like you’re peacefully floating down a river,” he says. “It’s usually the first thing I do when I wrap a movie and my bones are aching. You can also have it give you a light show."

“Marvelous!” I say. “Simply marvelous.” It sits like the pièce de résistance of the whole room, surrounded by a door on either side. I go around it and find myself in his walk-in closet that stretches along the entire wall. Everything is surprisingly spaced out — clearly he doesn’t actually have enough clothes to fill it — but it's majestic. I walk through it and come out on the other side, and he’s leaning against the counter watching me. “Where’s the shower?"

“Go around the corner."

I do, and now I’m along the back wall which has been tiled from floor to ceiling. It’s got a couple of skylights and I realize this little hallway is the shower. A little bench has been tiled into the back wall, two shower heads stand out from the other side, and several other spouts line the tile.

“Fuck me,” I mutter, touching one of the silver faucets.

“Look up,” Chris says.

“You’ve got a waterfall shower? No way. Now  _this_  is amazing. Like, how do you ever get anything done between this shower and that tub? I would never leave. The water bill would be astronomical, but this shower is freaking worth it."

“It is one of my favorite things,” he says. “You can use it while you’re here, of course."

“Thank you,” I say. “I think I need to take a shower."

“The whole bathroom is wired,” he says, “you just plop your device in this thing here and you’ve got tunes."

“Really?"

He nods. “I wanted a retreat so I spend most of my money in here and in that kitchen."

“I can see why,” I say. “They’re phenomenal."

“Thank you,” he says. “I would have put in a pool but that seemed stupid."

“Who needs a pool when you’ve got that tub?"

“Precisely,” he says.

“Your bathroom is actually a little gateway to heaven,” I say. “I’m certain of it."

“Do you want to use it now?"

“Could I?”

Chris bites his bottom lip to hide his grin as he nods. “Of course."

I spend a very long time in the shower, of course the first ten minutes of it were spent playing with all the different functions, streams and pressures. I'm really not sure how he makes himself of use at all because I would spend all my time in here while William Fitzsimmons sings me into oblivion through the amazing speakers.

When I finally emerge in my pajamas, Chris is reclined on his bed with Dorota by his side.

"Is my dog in your bed?" I ask, something bubbling up inside me.

"Yes, she is," he says, happily scratching her head. My dog looks like she belongs there, curled up next to him. My lip quivers and my eyes water, but it's that single sob that betrays me. "Button, are you crying?"

I nod and rush towards the bed, throwing myself at him. Kissing him, I feel him relax and hold me.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever met," I say, my hands gently holding his perfect face. "I just need you to know that."

He nods his head, kissing me gingerly. "She's a great dog, probably because she's got such a great owner. I don't mind having either of you in my bed." He wipes my cheeks with his thumbs and kisses me again. "How was your shower?"

"Without a doubt," I say, sniffling, “that was the best shower I've ever taken in my life. Those jets could hit a lady in just the right spot to get her going."

Chris cocks his eyebrow and chuckles. "Is that so?"

"I think probably so, yes," I answer. "I mean, I didn't try it but I'm pretty sure it would work."

"I'll have to remember that," he says. "I'm going to brush my teeth now, and then we'll snuggle in, okay?"

"Okay," I say. I make myself comfortable on the other side of the bed, wiggling beneath the sheets and blankets. The pillow is soft and cloud-like, and Dorota weasles her way against my side. Chris lifts the covers behind me and slips his arm under mine, quickly kissing my head before settling in behind me. It is the warmest and best night's sleep I've gotten in a long time.

I wake up alone and a bit cold because both bodies on my sides have left me. Chris is sitting outside on the deck with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. I patter quietly to the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee, and I stretch for a minute. I slip on my house shoes and open the door from the master bedroom, and Chris smiles when he sees me.

"Good morning, prince," I say, ruffling my fingers over his scalp. He opens his arms and I quickly sit on his lap before he wraps them back around us. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Not at all," he says, shaking his head. "Look at Do."

She's having the time of her life running through the piles of raked leaves, her tail wagging excitedly behind her. I do need to get her a yard.

"It really is beautiful out here," I say, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"I like to come out here and declutter my thoughts," he says. "It's peaceful."

"I don't want to be in the way of you're decluttering, so I can go back inside."

"No, stay," he says, sliding his hand to my hip. "Unless of course you want go inside."

I shake my head and lean against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

"May I ask what you're decluttering?"

"A job," he says. "It's a romantic comedy."

"Oh, the one you auditioned for after comic con?"

He nods. "They've offered it but I don't know if I want to take it."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"It'll be big," he says. "Sandra Bullock and Anne Hathaway are already cast."

"Awe, Sandy! You love her, don't you?"

He laughs. "I do. She's incredible. It would be doing all the press and appearances that would be annoying. And then I would have women telling me they want to have my babies and throwing themselves at me, which isn’t true because they don’t really know me."

"I hate to break it to you, dear, but I think if you were just a regular guy walking down the street you would have women throwing themselves at you. You look like apple pie and freedom mixed with a lumberjack and whiskey and it's all very alluring, and it’s public knowledge you want a family. Then you open your mouth and the very sweetest things come out, like a damn Disney prince. Why haven't you ever played a prince?"

"In what world would I ever be a prince?" He laughs. "My English accent is terrible."

"I'm sure it's not that bad. And why do princes have to be English?"

"Well, they can't be American," he says. "Princes without accents make people uncomfortable."

"Sebastian Stan was a fine prince on Kings."

"And that worked out well, didn't it?"

I run my fingers through his hair, knowing this is something he'll work through himself, and I have a feeling it'll be better for me not to press it.

"When and where would it film?"

"February in New York," he answers.

"I bet that's nice," I say. “Well, it’s not my decision to make, but I do think you would have a good time with Sandy, and Anne always seems fun. She could be crazy though — who knows? If you take it, you’ll do great, and if you don’t, you’ll find something else. How long do you have to decide?"

“Monday."

“Well then, maybe I can help take your mind off it for now."

“Oh?"

I nod, running my fingers over his beard. He grins as I nip at his chin.

We make breakfast and watch the parade, and Paris and Harrison finally make it down the stairs. When the parade ends, we get ready to go to Chris’ mom’s house. I pull on my dress and tights, and I step into my heels.

“I can’t decide if I like you better all dressed up or dressed just to chill.” Chris says, looking me over when I come out of the bathroom.

“I like myself either way,” I say, “so thanks. You are welcome to look, but I dress for myself. Maybe one day I’ll wear something just with you in mind, but for now it’s for me."

“Duly noted,” he says, taking my hand, “and thank you for letting me look. If I can say it, I do like you in heels so it’s easier to kiss you."

I lean in on my toes anyway and kiss him, running my hands along his broad shoulders. He’s wearing a lovely blue sweater made of the softest stuff, and it makes his eyes pop.

“I’m excited for you to meet everyone,” he says, “and for turkey."

“I feel badly that I don’t have anything to take,” I say. “I got your mom a little gift but I feel like I should have food or something."

“You didn’t need to get anything,” he says. “Besides, I’ve got all the drinks ready to go. That’s my contribution."

“How thoughtful."

His mom’s house is in a different suburb, and it takes us half an hour to get there. He runs around to my door and helps me out, squeezing my hand. “It’ll be great."

“I know,” I say, smiling at him. We have to park in the grass off to the side of the yard because the driveway is full, and the front door swings open.

"Uncle Chris!"

A boy tears out of the house and Chris sweeps to pick him up with one arm so he doesn't drop my hand.

"Hey, Ethan!" Chris says, kissing his head. "How are you, buddy?"

"Good! We got a puppy."

"You did? What's it look like?"

"She's inside," Ethan says. "Beth named her Flopsy. Who's she?"

"This is my girlfriend, Clemmie," Chris says. "This is my nephew, Ethan."

"Hi, Ethan."

"You look like a mermaid."

"Christopher Robert!" I know her from all the pictures and interviews — Lisa Evans. She hugs him around Ethan and then looks at me. "Hello, dear. I'm Lisa, Chris' mom."

"Hello, I'm Clemmie," I say as she pulls me into her arms. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Evans."

“Please call me mom — if you’re comfortable with it — everyone else does and always has. You’re beautiful," she says. "Chris, she's really beautiful."

"I know, ma," he says. "She's smart and funny, too."

"I believe it," she says, "and you must be Harrison and Paris."

I look at the front door to see a huge flood of people spilling out, and I meet them all. Aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, the neighbors, in-laws, sisters, his father and brother, Scott.

We end up in the kitchen with Chris’ sister Carly, a few kids, and a bowl of tortilla chips. Chris is sitting on a bar stool and I stand in front of him, while Harrison leans on the bar shoveling snacks into his mouth.

"Clemmie," Scott says, drawing it out. "That's a darling name."

"Thank you," I say.

"And that's your brother?"

"One of them," I answer.

"Huh, good genes," he says, "like our family."

"I think so," I say. "We don't have any major medical concerns as far as we know."

"So you're with Chris," Carly says. "And your brother is cute. Scott needs someone. Do you have another brother?"

"One's married, the other has a serious girlfriend and a baby, and my youngest is thirteen so I guess he maybe hasn't embraced it if he is into men."

"Our oldest brother said Tobias went to his first girl-boy party the other day and touched his first boob," Harrison adds. "He was quite impressed."

"Damn, thirteen!" Chris mutters, slapping his hand on the quartz.

"Boobs are pretty great," Paris says, looking down her shirt at her own pair.

"Shucks," Scott laughs, "I'm not really a one man kind of man anyway."

"Flopsy!" Ethan's sister Beth runs into my leg, the puppy in tow. Scott picks both of them up and chuckles.

"May I see Flopsy?" Chris asks. Beth passes the puppy to him, and it's funny seeing the little dog go from being as big as the human holding it to looking like a toy in the arms of a giant.

"Red hair," Beth says, looking at me. I smile as I gingerly squat, keeping my skirt in check, and her little fingers wrap around a curl. "Pretty."

"Thank you," I say. "I like yours, too."

It's true. She's got perfect brown ringlets that circle around her tiny head, and she giggles.

"Will you come cook with me?” Beth asks.

I look up at Chris and he shrugs. "Sure."

She takes my hand and I have to crouch as she leads me through the house, pulling me through herds of people. Chris follows me, saying hello to everyone we pass and laughing. I'm glad he's with me because I don't mind seeing Beth's kitchen at all but I also didn't want to be seen as that girl who fled away with the kids to avoid all the adults.

I assume this is a spare room Lisa has converted to a playroom for the day because three children are already in it, sitting on the floor playing with Playdoh and another lady sits in the chair.

“Hey Mel,” Chris says. “This is my girlfriend Clemmie, and Beth brought us to look at her kitchen. Clem, this is my cousin, Melissa."

“Hi,” she says. “These two are mine. I’m on baby duty right now." And then I see she is in fact holding a baby close to her chest.

“Nice to meet you,” I say. Beth pulls me to the pastel play kitchen in the room and Chris sits in the window seat with the puppy. I am handed a plastic fried egg on a plate and a fake glass of orange juice which I pretend to drink.

“I’m making bacon,” Beth says.

“Thank you,” I say. “This tastes good."

She giggles at me as she turns the plastic knobs.

“Hey stranger,” a woman’s voice says. Chris looks up from Flopsy and his face lights up. “I heard you were here."

He stands and meets her at the door, giving her a hug. She’s tall and her skin is olive with warm undertones, and her dark hair hangs to her hips. She’s all woman and curvy and absolutely gorgeous.

“HI Cricket,” Chris says. “You’re looking well."

“So are you,” she says, holding onto his hand. They’re obviously very familiar. “I thought we were long past Cricket."

“You’ll always be Cricket to me. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in New York or something?"

“I am, most of the time,” she says. “Just home for Thanksgiving."

“Excellent,” he says. Melissa clears her throat and Chris whips around. “Oh, Cricket, this is my cousin, Melissa, her kids Cole and Claire, my cousin’s kid Robby, my niece Beth, and this beautiful lady is my girlfriend, Clemmie."

“Oh wow,” Cricket says. “Girlfriend, huh?"

“Yes, that is what he likes to call me among other things,” I say, shaking her hand. Chris laughs at me and pulls me under his arm. “But it’s nice to meet you."

“Likewise,” she says.

“We grew up together,” Chris says. “Her family lived next door when we were teenagers."

“Most of my best days were spent in this house.” she says. “You know, with your family."

“Of course," Chris says. Silence falls except for Beth singing a mix of songs from Tangled, and Chris and Cricket are just smiling at each other.

“You look  _really_ good,” she says, running her perfectly shaded bottom lip between beautiful white teeth. Who does this lady think she is?

“Your bacon’s finished!” Beth says, handing me another plate.

“Oh, thank you!” I say, taking it from her. “It smells delicious."

She grins happily and hugs my leg.

“She likes you,” Chris says, kissing the side of my head. “Beth, do you mind if I take Clemmie away for a minute?"

“No,” she says. She looks up at me with wide brown eyes and tugs on the hem of my skirt. “Can I sit by you for food?"

“I think so,” I say. “We’ll have to see."

“Do you want Flopsy?” Chris asks.

“She’s happy with you,” Beth answers. “Keep her."

Chris grins and kisses the puppy’s head. “Before things kick off, I want to show you the basement. You can come too, Cricket."

He takes my hand and leads me down the hallway to the door at the end, flicking on the light when he opens it. We walk down the stairs and Chris smiles.

“This is where we hang out,” he says. “I’ve watched more Barney down here than I care to admit. But back here is my favorite thing."

He flicks on another light and illuminates a wooden platform, his little stage.

“How much fun! Do you still use it?"

“Sometimes,” he answers. “When I get stressed, I come here and let it out."

“I want to see you dance some time,” I say. “I mean, hopefully you’re not stressed but it would be fun to watch you tap."

“He’s got some moves,” Cricket says, jutting out her hip. She circles the huge sectional sofa — one of those ones that’s more like a square and could easily accommodate several sleeping adults — and runs her finger over the back of it. “Your mom got a new couch. I liked the old one. We have some good memories featuring that old couch, don’t we, Chris?"

Drop the we, bitch.

I hate that those thoughts are even in my head but it’s the way she keeps eying him and touching him and the stupid we. I could handle random women throwing themselves at him but she’s clearly trying to be suggestive. At least I think she is.

Chris is holding my hand though so I shrug it off.

“Christopher! We need drinks,” Lisa calls.

“Shit, I forgot to get them out of the car.” He flings Flopsy gently against my chest and I grab her. He rushes to up the stairs and I scratch just under the puppy’s ear as I head towards the steps.

“Clammy, right?” Cricket asks, grabbing my arm.

“Clemmie,” I answer, giving her the same smile I give to my bridezillas. 

“You seem really sweet."

“Thank you. I like to believe I’m just decent."

“Chris and I have known each other over half our lives,” she says. “I’ve known him since before he was famous.” She pauses like she wants a response but I don’t know what to say so I wait. “Well, I mean, I really know Chris, you know, like  _really know_  him.” I think she means that in the Biblical sense. “I know what he likes and what he doesn’t, and like I said, you seem really sweet.” I give her another half smile, glad for the puppy in my arms. “I just don’t know if you can give him what he needs. He’s smitten now, sure, but will you hold his attention in a month? In a year? Do you know how his brain works? He’s got a lot going on up there and it can be hard to manage it. I just think it might be good for you think about this now and get out of it before either of you ends up really hurt."

Thank God I know how to handle myself well. Rage is flooding through my veins and I really could jump at her. Maybe I could get in one good hit or pull of hair, but I refrain. “Thank you for your input, but I think Chris and I will decide what’s best for us."

Cooly and calmly, I climb the stairs. Brevity is better.

“Hey sunshine!” Scott says, rounding the corner. “I was just looking for you. I wanted to get to know you better, and I got you a seat by me at the table. I mean, Chris will be there and your brother and his spunky girlfriend too, but we’re all close."

“Sounds great,” I say. “Beth wanted to sit by me but that’s okay."

“She’s probably forgotten,” Scott says. “Don’t worry about it. She’ll have plenty of time to fawn over you later."

“Fawn over me?"

“I think it’s the red hair,” Scott says. “I’m not sure she’s seen it often, but anyway, what were you doing in the basement?"

“Chris was showing me the stage,” I say, “and Cricket wanted to give me a grand welcome."

Scott stops and rolls his eyes. “Ugh, she wasn’t horrible, was she? She was cool when we were young but then she and Chris broke up if you could even call it that, and then he booked his first movie and she got all possessive, like my brother is her fucking property. Like, what the hell? Whatever she said to you, ignore it."

“I’m already over it,” I say. “How can anything upset you when... puppy?"

Scott laughs and pets her head. “Very true. What did she say? Do you mind telling me? Do you want to tell me later?"

“In short she said I was really sweet but couldn’t handle your brother,” I say. “It’s no big deal."

“I hate her,” Scott says. “Don’t tell Chris I said that, but it’s true."

I laugh. “I won’t tell if you won’t."

He winks and leads me to a room where a play pen has been set up with a little food and water bowl. “You can drop her in there. She’ll be fine while we eat."

I kiss her head before placing her in the pen. After washing my hands in the powder room, I follow Scott back into the kitchen were too many people are gathered but Scott yells that it’s time to migrate to tables. The dining room table seats sixteen, another table for eight has been set up in the hall and two more card tables have been set up in the living room.

Chris smiles when he sees me and pulls me under his arm. “Sorry to run out on you like that."

“No worries,” I say, “Scott found me."

Chris slaps his brother’s shoulder fondly over my arm. “I’m glad we’re fixing to eat."

“It smells great,” I say.

“Ma has been making things since Monday,” he says, and I giggle. “What?"

“Your accent,” I say. “You can hide it when you’re not in Boston or at your house, but when you get with your family for half an hour, you’re a good ol’ Boston boy."

“Boston strong,” Scott laughs. “I think I’m better at losing it than he is."

“That’s because you prefer L.A. Anyway, it’s time for the whistle.” Chris shuts the whole room up by whistling, and Lisa raises her hands up in the air.

“I just want to thank everyone for being here,” she says. “I’m so glad you all could make it, and I’m delighted to see old friends and new friends. There’s turkey, ham, some salmon if that’s your thing, we’ve got dressing with cloves and some without, there are sweet potatoes and mashed potatoes, several casseroles and of course dessert will be available sometime after we eat. Thank you again for coming, and let’s eat."

Chris, Scott, Harrison and Paris and I stand off to the back of the kitchen to let everyone else go first.

“She never runs out of anything,” Scott says, “There’s a second pan of each item out in the garage being heated."

“Your mother is a machine,” I say. “You’ll both have to come to a Thanksgiving or Christmas at the Rogers house — all take out all day."

“From pizza to lo mein, we eat it all,” Harrison says fondly. “But the traditional turkey will be nice too."

“It’s deep fried,” Scott says. “Have you ever had a deep fried turkey?"

“No,” Harrison and I both say.

“It’s going to change your life,” a guy says, and I remember he was introduced as one of Chris’ cousins who’s father was the senator, and I differentiated them between their hair — Mike was the balding one and he was the one interested in the turkey. “Nice to meet you, Clemmie."

“Likewise,” I say, shaking his hand again. He claps Chris on the shoulder before moving along. Finally when most of the family of has made it through the line, we step up. “Goodness, I’m going to need at least two plates."

“Don’t we all,” Scott hums, reaching around me to get his plate. We pile it on and go to the table for eight in the hallway, and I’m happy to see it’s the five of us, Carly, her husband, and Shana.

“Still at the kids' table,” Carly says, digging into her dressing.

“You’ve got kids of your own,” Chris laughs, “and you’re still at the kids’ table."

“At least we don’t have to hear about Uncle Max’s hemorrhoids again.” Shana laughs.

“Eesh, don’t let him hear you,” Scott says.

“So Clemmie,” Carly says, “tell us about yourself. I mean, Harrison and Paris, you’re welcome to tell us about yourselves too."

“We get it,” Harrison laughs. “We’re not the ones dating your brother. I can however provide a thoughtful look into Clemmie she may not disclose herself."

“Don’t you dare!” I joke, swatting his hand. He grins.

“How many years are there between you?” Shana asks.

“Between us, three,” I say, “but the twins are in between there."

“So you’re four, too,” Shana says.

“Seven actually,” Chris answers. “Six in six years, and a seventh ten years later."

“What?” Shana gasps. “That’s insane."

“Mom wanted all her eggs in one basket, if you will,” Harrison says. “Tobias was a surprise."

“I bet you have even more hilarious stories than we do,” Shana says.

“We’ll tell you one of ours if you tell us one of yours,” I grin, sipping my wine.

“This could be bad,” Chris says.

“We shouldn’t take the deal,” Scott says. “You and I are way more embarrassing than she ever could be."

“You don’t know the reversible skirt story then do you?” Harrison offers, grinning over his cup.

“Ooh, do tell!” Scott says happily, leaning in over his plate. Chris squeezes my knee gently under the table. For the next hour, we eat some of the best food I've ever had and swap our best stories. It's delightful to see a set of siblings laugh over each other and with me, and watching Chris rock with laughter, hit his knee and grab Scott's chest on the occasion is my new favorite thing.

After lunch, Harrison, Paris and I attempt to help clean up but Lisa and her children are like a well-oiled machine. The five of them work together to divide up the leftovers — some of which Mike will drop off at the shelter — the others go to the aging grandparents and aunts and uncles who can no longer cook with the slightest ease. We do however manage to help Lisa pull pies, truffles and other things out of the refrigerator in the garage, and then everyone settles into the living room in a rather contented state. Cricket skulks in the other corner with her parents who actually seem like lovely people, but she glares at me continuously. I decide to quit looking in her direction.

Scott, Chris, Harrison and Paris manage to all squeeze onto one couch, and I plan to sit on the arm but Chris pulls me into his lap. “Is this okay?"

I nod and he wraps his hands around my waist, giving me that beautiful smile. We end up playing Catchphrase, and it was very bad of them to let me, Scott and Harrison all be on the same team. It’s like the three of us have spent every day for the past year together because we’re perfectly in sync, and the other team doesn’t stand a chance.

Early in the evening, everyone starts to thin out. Carly and her husband leave with their kids. Shana leaves to prepare for Black Friday shopping, even though she's adamant her group will not go into a store until midnight. All of the cousins, aunts, uncles, in-laws, grandparents, old friends and neighbors leave. The house is suddenly much quieter but no less full of love in his family.

“Woo,” Lisa says, falling into the chair Chris told me was 'hers.’ “I love everyone and I love being able to do this for everyone but it is exhausting. I’m pooped!"

“It was great, mom,” Chris says. "So good."

"It really was wonderful," I say, thinking before I add on that last word that's on the tip of my tongue. I don't want it to seem like I'm getting ahead of myself or thinking of Chris and me more seriously than I should. "That turkey was delicious, mom, and the way you guys cleaned up was amazing."

She smiles warmly at me. "Thank you, dear. I'm so glad you and your bit of family were able to make it."

"Thank you for having us, mom," Harrison says. That makes me feel better because it lessens it coming from me.

"Of course, everyone is welcome into my home," she says. "Now Clemmie, Chris tells me you're a wedding planner. What is that like?"

It's the usual new love interrogation, except it's completely laid back. Lisa laughs often and never responds with a hint of judgment. It's easy to answer her when everyone in the room seems genuinely interested and Chris has his arm around my shoulder. We're sitting impossibly close and I'm holding his hand where it falls over my arm. This feels warm and cozy like one of his kisses.

Paris falls asleep in Harrison's lap, never having fully recovered from yesterday's drinking, and Scott helps him carry her to an empty bedroom. Harrison seems to be having a good time seeing how other people do Thanksgiving, and Chris isn't ready to leave his mom yet either. He goes to the kitchen to get us all drinks and the left over charcuterie plate, leaving me alone with Lisa.

"You have a beautiful home," I say. "Really amazing."

"Thank you," she says. "I have to say it really has been wonderful spending what little time I've gotten with you. You seem very put together."

"I don't know about that, but I do try. We have very loving parents — not perfect, mind you — but very loving and supportive so that's always been nice, like you. It’s always helpful when you’re encouraged in your endeavors."

She smiles and reaches across to take my hand. "I really do like you. He seems happier around you than he has in a long time, and I don't think it's just the prospect of new love. You know my son wears his emotions on his sleeve and I love him for it, but it's been tough for him, ya’know?"

"I'm sure it isn't easy, being in his position and dealing with all the things he does. And I feel honored and privileged just to get the chance to be considered to hold his heart one day — he's amazing."

"Oh my sweet child," she begins, "I don't know if I should tell you or not, but I think you al—"

"A beer, a red, and a white for the lady," Chris says, strolling into the living room. Harrison is behind him carrying the butcher's block full of meats and Scott carries two more drinks. Chris sets the drinks down with their prospective person and sits next to me. Scott drops to the floor in front of the fire and stretches out on his back.

“Why did you invite the Avakians?” Scott says.

“Avi was supposed to be in New York,” Lisa says. “It was just going to be Arman and Maria but she showed up."

“I hate her,” Scott says.

“Scott!” Lisa says.

“Who?”  I ask.

“Cricket,” Chris answers.

“Oh,” I say. “She’s pretty."

“And a bitch,” Scott says. “She’s not the girl we grew up with. Whatever, let’s not waste anymore time with such boring talk. Clemmie, what do your parents do?"

“Mom’s an artist and Dad’s into nano technology."

“What do you mean?"

“You know after the trade towers collapsed, they had no good way to find people trapped under the rubble. They sent response team members and dogs, and while that saved so many lives and their efforts were amazing, it wasn’t incredibly safe and they had to be so very careful. With the nano technology they’re developing, they can drop thousands of the little Pets — as named by Dad — into a site. The Pets are smaller than the tip of a ballpoint pen so they can virtually fit anywhere. The Pets can move incredibly fast, detect life forms, assess damage and they send this information all back up to a computer. Within a matter of minutes, every living thing within a collapse structure can be found in its precise location and aid workers can start their rescue. This would work in a hurricane, earthquake, tsunami, tornado — anything where a structure has collapsed."

“That’s amazing,” Lisa says. “How’s the progress?"

“Good,” Harrison answers. “The government is anxious to use them because they might not be accurate right now, but it’s actually probably better they aren’t needed, right?"

They all nod in agreement.

“He plans to add voice technology to the second prototype,” I say. “So rescue workers will be able to communicate with those who are trapped if their condition allows it."

“They kind of look like something out of The Matrix,” Harrison says. “When we’re all there, he sends us out into the forest and releases them until they find us. It’s like the ultimate game of hide-and-seek."

“I want to play,” Scott whines.

“Come to North Carolina and you can,” I say. “Dad would love to have a huge group of people go out and do it, just for his own benefit."

Chris laughs and leans his head on my shoulder. “That’s what we’ll have to do. We’ll have to fly my family out to meet your family and play in the woods."

Lisa is absolutely wonderful, and it’s easy to see why her children adore her. She’s one of the warmest and loveliest women I’ve ever met, and I think she likes me. It’s definitely nice when Chris rolls onto his back and puts his head in my lap, letting me trace the shell of his ear. Lisa smiles contentedly and kisses us all on the head when she goes to bed.

“Lock up when they leave, Scotty,” she says. “I love you all."

“You know what we should do,” Scott says when she disappears.

“What’s that?” Chris asks.

“Pong."

“Do we have cups?” Chris asks, sitting up excitedly.

“Of course we have cups,” Scott says. “Come on, Miss Clemmie! We’re going to test your wit."

“I can’t get that drunk,” Chris says. “I have to drive home."

“We all know you’ll win anyway,” Scott says.

“What are we doing?” Harrison asks.

“Beer pong,” Chris answers. “We’re really good at it."

“Please,” Harrison says, “I can beat you."

“It’s on,” Scott says.

“Let me run upstairs and tell Paris we’re in the basement in case she really wakes up."

I grab a stack of cups and Chris grabs the box of beer from the kitchen, and we head to the basement. Paris and Harrison show up a few minutes later, and Paris falls onto the couch.

“Who’s first?” I ask. “I’ll need the rest of you to be a little bit gone to even stand a chance."

“Harrison, you up?” Chris asks, pouring beer into cups.

“Hell yes,” he says. Seven siblings fighting for attention has all given us a healthy sense of competition and Harrison is not one to back down. Scott pulls brand new packages of ping pong balls from the shelf and he switches the TV to a music channel.

“The real party begins!” Chris cheers. He stands on one side while Scott and I lean against the couch.

“Me first?” Harrison asks.

Chris nods. “Go for it."

“He’s going to start showing off,” Scott says. “He’ll do it for you."

“Just one lob per turn?” Harrison asks. “No bouncing?"

“That’s fine with me,” Chris answers. “Let’s go."

Harrison misses his first cup, but so does Chris, and soon they're in a good old fashioned showdown. They’re both down to one cup and Paris has woken up because they're shouting is so loudly.

“Come on, Chris!” Chris yells to himself as he sends a ball flinging across the table. It sinks perfectly into Harrison’s last cup and my brother groans before finishing his drink. He has one last opportunity to tie the game but misses, and Chris raises his arms triumphantly. He kisses me happily, dipping me backwards.

“Who’s next?"

“I’ll go,” Paris says, clambering over the back of the couch. “Let’s go, Clemmie. I don’t want to be drunk before they’re even tipsy just because we take up less space."

She probably would have been better off choosing one of the guys because I’ve only drank two by the time she’s downed nine and it doesn’t take long for me to finish the job.

“Clemmie’s a machine!” Scott says. “You’ll play winner of me and Chris."

He’s been nursing his own cup since the games started but it doesn’t seem to phase him. Chris does get more competitive, and he starts chastising himself even more when he misses, like an adorable little house elf.

“Get it together, Chris!” He yells. Chris has two cups in front of him and Scott still has four.

“You’re doing great, handsome,” I say, cheering him on. He grins at me before tossing a ball which lands perfectly in a cup.

“Yes!” Chris cheers. Scott shrugs it off as he drinks. He misses. Chris lands the ball. Scott lands a ball and Chris drinks. Chris lands the ball. Scott misses. Chris misses. Scott misses again. And Chris lands his last ball.

“Dammit,” Scott moans. “You’re up, Clem. Take him down."

“You ready for this?” I ask, taking my side of the table. Scott sets up the cups while Harrison pours them, and they’re all on my team.

“You can do it,” Paris says. “Win for me. Win for us."

My boyfriend raises his eyebrow at me. “You can start because I’ll be finishing."

My first ball lands right in the corner cup. “You were saying?"

Chris nods his head and smirks. “What’s one?"

I will win this one, I know, but I miss a few on purpose. I'm now winning with three of his cups remaining and four of mine still stand, and I'm starting to feel the buzz. Rapidly I finish him off and Chris moans when he drinks his last cup, sinking to his knees.

"You've broken me," he says, hugging my thighs when I stand next to him. "I'm defeated."

I skate my fingers through his hair and tilt his head up. "Let's go again, but on teams."

"Siblings versus siblings!" Scott yells. "Let's do it."

Harrison and I do our traditional family handshake while Paris flops onto the couch, glad to sit this one out.

"Five glasses each," Scott says. "And I'm tossing first."

Things start to get really fuzzy really fast, and somehow I know Chris chugs their last cup. Harrison lifts me up and cheers, and he pulls out last two cups off the table and we toast.

"Fuckin' shit, I feel drunk," Chris mutters, rubbing his eyeballs.

"Ithinkyoure... I think you're..." The words won't come out of my mouth properly.

"Clemmie's messy!" Scott yells as he fills up my cup. "Dance party!"

Harrison passes Paris a cup as Scott changes the channel to a more upbeat station, and we dance.

I wake up with the most horrible taste in my mouth and a desperate need for coffee. I'm wrapped around Chris with Scott snoring off to the side, and Harrison and Paris are sleeping at the far end of the couch.

I feel terrible.

Carefully I slip off the sofa and slowly climb the stairs.

"Good morning, Clemmie," Lisa says softly. "I take it you're not feeling so great this morning?” I shake my head. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'm making breakfast for everyone which will help. There are still some of the kids' clothes upstairs in the closet in the green bedroom if you want to change into something more comfortable. You'll also find anything you need as far as freshening up in the connecting bathroom."

"Do you do this often?"

"My kids have been bringing people over to my house since they were children, and they've been getting people drunk in my basement long before it was legal. God love 'em."

I nod and slowly make my way upstairs. I find some sweatpants I assume were one of the girls' and a T-shirt. I wash my face with cold water, brush my teeth and find a comb for my hair. I already feel a million times better.

Lisa smiles at me when I come down the stairs. "Coffee or tea, dear?"

"Coffee please." The cup she hands me smells heavenly, and I drink it more quickly than is advised. I sit at the breakfast bar and she slides me a bottle of water.

"You kids have fun last night?" Lisa asks softly.

"Too much," I say. "Too much fun."

She laughs. "When Chris and Scott get together, it's all mischief. They have such a good relationship."

"They do," I say. "It's fun to be around them."

"You and your brother seem close," she says, placing a plate piled with bacon in front of me.

"We are," I say. "He and I are really close, and then I'm close with my oldest sister Madge."

"Seven kids," Lisa hums. "God bless your parents. I know I was exhausted with four."

I laugh. "When they're all as outgoing as yours are, I can believe it."

Lisa laughs. "That's my big baby now."

Heavy footsteps are on the stairs and sure enough Chris comes through the door.

"I'm a horrible son and boyfriend, ma," he says, hugging her.

"You're not," she says. I shake my head as if I agree with her. "Now go upstairs and freshen up a bit — you'll have to wake your brother."

Chris sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "That's punishment enough." He kisses my forehead in passing.

"Scott is a real bear," Lisa says. "My Chris is a heavy sleeper but Scott is on a whole other dimension. Like, a giant could crush the house to bits and Scott would wake up afterwards and ask where the food was. It can also be very dangerous to wake him."

“I'm glad you're making the big guy do it then," I say, sipping my water. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Of course not," Lisa says. "You're my guest. Please sit and recover."

I smile and eat a piece of bacon. Paris and Harrison emerge from the staircase then, and Lisa sets the bottle of Advil on the counter. At least they look worse than I did.

She sends them upstairs just as Chris comes down. He steals another piece of bacon and a sip from my coffee.

"Do you want to come with me to wake the dragon?"

"Ooh, a bear and a dragon. He must be a beast. I'll go." I jump down from my stool and Chris laughs.

"You kept that shirt, ma?"

It's a faded navy Mickey Mouse shirt from Disneyland. Mickey wears board shorts and sunglasses, and it's incredibly soft.

"You used to wear it all the time," Lisa says. "You loved that shirt."

"I still do," Chris says. He leans in and kisses my cheek, "It looks better on you though."

I giggle as I follow him down the stairs, and Scott has rolled onto his stomach. He’s snoring loudly and little puddle of drool has leaked onto the pillow.

“He’s really sleeping, isn’t he?"

Chris snorts. “He says he’s not the relationship type but it’s really that he can’t convince anyone to stay with him after he hears that ruckus. Stay behind me."

He reaches out a finger and gently brushes the instep of Scott’s foot which jerks at the contact.

“Scott.” Chris says. “Scott!"

Scott’s snoring stops for just a second but resumes immediately. Chris circles around the couch and gently brushes the shell of Scott’s ear. Scott grins but nothing happens. I stand next to Chris and poke Scott’s shoulder to no avail.

“Scott!”  Chris says. Scott hums but still sleeps. “I’m going for the cushions."

He picks up the cushion and whacks his brother across the head.

“What the fuck?” Scott mumbles, shooting upwards.

“You wouldn’t wake up,” Chris says. “Sorry."

“Screw you, man,” Scott says, “and I can’t believe you were in on this, Clemmie."

“Sorry,” I say. “I tried."

“Ugh,” Scott says, and then he breaks into a laugh. “You two are the worst."

“Get up, little brother,” Chris says, pulling the cushion from under Scott’s head. “Ma’s made breakfast."

Scott groans as he stretches and slowly makes his way upstairs. Chris takes my hand and kisses me.

“I’ve enjoyed having you here so much,” Chris says, “hangover and all."

“I’ve enjoyed being here,” I say. “Last night was fun."

“It was until we woke up,” Chris laughs. “You ready to eat?"

I nod and follow him upstairs. I voluntarily do the dishes when we finish breakfast and Chris helps since we’re the most coherent two. The five of us make it through two more pots of coffee and several episodes of Law & Order with Lisa. We leave just before noon and spend the afternoon in much the same way. Dorota licks my face when we return to Chris’ house since we accidentally left her alone all night; thank goodness my boyfriend is smart enough to have dog doors. Chris makes his apologies to her too, and she happily joins us on the couch.

Lisa, Scott and Shana join us for dinner, and I officially have no problems with doing absolutely nothing as long as I’m with Chris. It’s nice knowing we don’t have to go somewhere or get all dressed up, but it has been even better to kiss his face or ruffle my fingers through his hair whenever I want.

When we settle into Chris’ bed that night, he sighs.

“Did Cricket say anything to you?"

“What?"

“Scott said Cricket said something to you."

“She did,” I say. “I don’t think she likes me, but that’s okay."

“What did she say?"

“Nothing of importance,” I answer, rolling over so I’m facing him. “I mean if I’m being honest, it got to me that moment but I quickly got over it."

“We’ve been friends for a long time and I think she thinks in some way she and I will end up together."

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I shrug. “She’s very pretty but not on the inside."

“What’d she say?"

I shake my head. “It’s nothing."

“What’d she say?"

“She was your first, wasn’t she?"

“She told you that?"

“No,” I say, “but she implied it."

“That’s fuckin’ lame."

“I thought so, too,” I say. “I guess I threaten her and she thought she could frighten me away."

“Can I tell you something?” Chris asks, sliding his arm around my waist. I nod. “There’s no competition."

I bite my lip as I run my hands over his chest. I know he means it and feel my insides turn to mush and heat rise in my cheeks. “You, sir, make me think this could be everything."

He pulls me on top of him and kisses me just once. “You make me feel the same."


	6. Chapter 6

_My dearest Christopher Robert,_

_I have greatly enjoyed our time together. I find myself laughing more with you than I've ever laughed with anyone else, and you're my most constant thought when we're not together. I think about your smile and your gorgeously long eyelashes of which I am secretly jealous because they are far more beautiful than mine. I think about how gentle you are when we kiss yet hold all of the passion of a romance novel between your lips, and I think about the warmth of your hands on my body. I remember how wonderful you are with your family and how congenial you are with your fans. You can hold a room captive but don't hunger for the attention. You make me feel like all is possible and that my passions matter. I want to do more and be more and simply live more when I'm with you — even if we're watching Sam McCoy convict a serial killer with your mother._

_What I'm trying to say is I love you. I am in love with you. I have fallen quite hard and quite quickly, but I think you never gave me much of a choice when you donned that Darth Vader costume. I think The Force was in the room that day and it brought us together. I love you and can't wait to see you again._

_With my everything,  
_ _Your Button_

_P.S. — If this sounds weird, I’m planning an Austen-themed wedding and have been fully submerging myself in her works by reading Sense and Sensibility and watching the Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth. What a babe… but you’re the one I love._

"You can't fucking send him an email," I mutter to myself as I walk down the street. "That's a horrible way to tell someone you've fallen in love with them. You're an adult, Clemmie Rogers. You should tell him in person."

I jump a little as my phone vibrates in my hand. I connect the call. "I was just thinking about you."

"Were you?"

"Yes," I answer. "I have a bit of a professional question to ask you and I also missed the sound of your voice."

"Awe, your voice sounds like butterflies," Chris says. "What's the question?"

"You know the Emilia Dashwood novels?"

"You mean those raunchy sex books with the odd titles? Like Scratched and Stuffed or something like that?"

"It's _Tied_ , _Bound_ , _Beaten_ and _Released_ ," I say.

"Are you going to ask me to read them? I promise my mom can find better stuff on the Internet written with me in mind."

"No, I'm not going to ask you to read them," I say. "They made the first one a movie last year and now we're onto _Bound_. It's called that because Emilia and Charles get married in it."

"I did not know that."

"Yeah, well," I say, "they're having a contest for the design of her dress. I submitted a sketch and now I'm in the final five."

"Clemmie, that's fantastic," he says. "Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"So what's the problem?"

“They’re going to rip it."

“There will probably be a lot of women who will want that exact dress torn off their bodies on their wedding nights, or just nights for fun."

“True. The books are really bad though, you know? Like, the plot is horrible and the writing is just okay, but people are reading them just for the sex like they don’t know that exists in great form on the internet."

"Do it if you want," he says. "You haven't won yet — I don't doubt that you can — and if you really want to get your designs out there, this is a great way to draw attention to yourself. You’ll make several dresses in actuality and they’ll compensate you for all of them. And I’ve been in some movies before that weren’t actually great but I wouldn’t change it because that got me where I am today. And according to Mom, those books are better than _Fifty Shades_ , so at least there’s that."

"All right, on one condition."

"Yes?"

"If I win, you have to go to the premier with me."

"Ugh, fine." Chris feigns disgust. "Do we have to stay for all the sex?"

"No, definitely not." I say.

"Okay," he says. "It's a deal."

"Thank you," I say. "I hope they like my dress."

"I'm sure it will be beautiful, button," Chris says. "What else have you been up to?"

"Stuff and things," I answer. "What have you been up to?

"Meeting with important people," he says. "You're talking to the next love interest of both Anne Hathaway and Sandy Bullock."

"Really? Oh Chris, I'm so happy you took it. It'll be great."

"The script is a lot of fun," he says. "It'll be a nice change of pace."

"May I visit you on set?" I ask.

"Of course," he says, "will I get to visit you when you're staging your dress?"

"Please do," I say. "I have two weeks to make it."

"You can do it because I won't be there to distract you."

"Sadly," I hum. "Are you doing anything the week of the fourteenth?"

"I have a meeting about directing on the fifteenth in New York. Why?"

"Because I'll be in New York too," I say.

"Really?"

"Yes," I say. "That's when we're fitting the dresses and I was going to invite you to come visit me."

"Well we should definitely make that happen," Chris says. "Did they book your hotel and stuff?"

"They put us all up in the Empire," I say. "We'll fit Alexandra there too and they have photographers set up."

"That sounds fancy," Chris says. "I know nothing about dress fittings."

"I could teach you a thing or two," I say. "I will see you though?"

"Of course," he says. "I can't wait, Clementine Rogers."

"Me either," I say.

I should tell him now. I should just spit it out and tell him.

"Clem?"

"Yeah?"

“I’m excited to see you."

“And I you,” I say. “Talk to you later?"

“As always,” he says and the call ends.

I decide it’s time then, and dial.

“Hi, mom,” I say when the call connects.

“Oh my darlin’!” she says. “How are you, sweet daughter?"

“I’m great, actually,” I say.

“It’s Chris, isn’t it?"

“It is,” I say. “I think I’m in love with him."

“That’s wonderful, darling. When do we get to meet him?"

“Hopefully in the new year,” I say. “Is that okay?"

“That will work,” she says. “What is it about him?"

"Everything," I answer. "I don't know, mom. He's so sweet and he cares about me. He even loves Dorota and he's respectful. He makes me laugh and he even made me cry once just because he was so kind."

"Not to mention he's handsome," she laughs. "Your father and I have been watching his movies. Dad didn't care much for London, but he really liked The Losers. He laughed the entire time. Chris is really cute, Clemmie."

"I know," I say. "I always hear brides talk about their grooms and how they feel, but being with Chris is better than that. It's like as long as I have him, I have everything."

"Well, sweetheart, I do want to caution you that love can be hard. Marriage can be hard — I know that as well as anybody. If your father hadn't forgiven me, who knows where I would be. You've been this serious before, just make sure this is what you really want and that he's the man you want it with. I don't doubt you, my darling, I just want you to be happy."

She's right. It is too soon to tell him. Marriage is definitely out of the question at this  point.

"I will be," I say. "I love you."

"Love you too," she says. "See you soon!"

I meet with a delightful New Year’s Eve bride so we can finalize her floral arrangements, and then it's back to the office.

"Good afternoon, Clementine," Mrs. Morganstern says. “You’ve been doing well handling the transition."

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m glad to have the opportunity to do it."

“As you should,” she says. “It’s not easy for me to do this for you — you’re my best associate, you know."

“Thank you,” I say.

“With your cutting back, Tina moving forward and the new hires,” she says, “I’m thinking of expanding."

“That would be wonderful,” I say. “You could do so much good."

“Would you be interested in being the head of the new branch?"

“Would I be interested? Mrs. Morganstern, that sounds amazing."

“I haven’t decided where yet. I’m considering Detroit, Chicago, Cleveland — anywhere our services could be useful."

“Any of those would be fine,” I say. “When?"

“Not until midyear,” she says. “We’ve got time to think on it, find an office space and make contacts within the city."

“Of course,” I say. “Thank you for the opportunity."

“How is your dress thing going?"

“Fine,” I say. “I’m flying to New York in a couple weeks to fit it to the actress."

“That sounds so exciting,” she says. “And your boyfriend?"

“Is very good,” I answer.

“You seem happier,” she says.

“I am,” I say.

“Well, just don’t let it get in the way of your work,” she says. “I know you have time off to go to New York, but make sure this isn’t a regular occurrence."

“Certainly,” I say. “Is there anything else?"

“Bridal show in January,” she says. “Will you be there for that?"

“I would like that very much,” I say.

“That will be all then,” she says. “Thank you, Clementine."

“Thank you, Mrs. Morganstern.” 

Mrs. Morganstern is very good at her job, always professional, and she only is as friendly as she needs to be. It makes the office an efficient environment and we all work efficiently.

"You were in Morganstern's office?" Chip, one of the other assistants asks, sitting on the couch in my office.

"Yes," I say.

"She's cutting back, you know," he says. His blue eyes are the unsettling kind, and he always looks like he's planning something — probably because he is.

"I didn't know it," I say. "Thank God we're both good at our jobs."

He narrows his eyes and drums his fingers against his chin. "That's true."

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, Clemmie," he says, standing up. "That will be all."

"Have a nice day," I call after him as he leaves my office. He's been after my job since he started, but he won't ever have it.

I make several appointments for other brides over the coming weeks and I send all my appointments to Tina while I'll be in New York.

And the time can't pass soon enough.

I'm so pleased they sent someone to greet me at the airport because me trying to carry a 25 pound dress that's longer than I am is not working. It was a struggle to get it in the overhead compartment, and I had to ship my sewing machine to the hotel two days ago.

He takes the dress from me and puts it in the backseat of the town car with a flourish. I climb in the other side and he closes the door.

"You're the second girl I've picked up today with a dress," he says, "big wedding?"

"No," I answer, "it's for a movie. They're trying to pick out the prettiest dress for the fictional bride to wear."

"Wonderful," he says. "Did you make the dress?"

"I did,” I say. “I have pictures I can show you."

“That would be great,” he says, pulling onto the road. I text Chris with an update that I’m already on the way; he’ll be landing later today. It’s an hour spent in the cab with Mr. Narcise, the lovely driver. He tells me about his daughter’s wedding and how wonderful it was, and I love hearing about it. When we pull up to the hotel, he looks at the pictures of my dress and oozes over how pretty it is. I hope Mr. Narcise is the one taking me back to the airport.

My hotel room is large with a separate sitting area and garden tub in the bathroom, and a dressing mannequin waits for me. It's time to assess any damage to the dress and fix any problems before the fitting tomorrow.

Working for an hour, I sit in the floor with a pin between my teeth and fingers gently working beads into the dress. I jump when there's a knock at my door. Quickly pulling it open to a young woman, I smile at her.

"Hi, you look like one of the other designers. Are you one of the other designers?"

"I am," I say. "I'm Clemmie, and this is my dress."

"Clemmie, I'm Arnett," she says, holding out her hand. She's got short, spiky hair and the tips have been dyed blue. She steps into my room and eyes it. "Really beautiful."

"Thank you," I say. "I'm pretty happy with it."

"Eesh," she says, "you're better off than the woman down the hall. She's losing her mind."

"Why?"

"She says it's all wrong — her dress," Arnett says, popping down on the couch. She's wearing dark skinny jeans tucked into heeled sneakers. "I offered to help but she slammed the door in my face."

"That doesn't sound very nice," I say.

"Yeah," she says, "I think maybe she's doing it to psych us out and the she'll show up tomorrow with the perfect dress."

"Figures," I say, sitting back on the floor in front of the dress's train. "So did you read the books?"

"Please," she says, "there's better stuff on the Internet."

"That's true," I say. "I read them. They weren't awful but they're not good."

"Hmm," she says. She suddenly jumps up and stares at my dress. "Are those real pearls?"

"There are a few of them in there," I say. "I know that's not how they're described, but I figured it'd be nice since Emilia's always calling him Poseidon."

"I like that," she says. "You've got such delicate work."

"Thank you," I say. "It's these little hands."

She laughs and looks at the front. "Anyway, aside from introducing myself, me and the other two designers not freaking out want to all get lunch together. You in?"

"That sounds great actually," I say. "My boyfriend is coming into town but he won't land for awhile so I was going to have to fend for myself anyway."

"Sweet," she says. "Do you know anywhere to go? We're taking one of the producers so it's on their bill."

"I've been to New York twice before but they were both highly planned things so no."

"Well, we'll think of something."

"Is your dress finished?"

"Mostly," she says. "I will want to do some stuff once it's on her, of course."

"I'm sure there will be lots of adjustments then."

"You want to go meet the other guys or do you need to wait for your boyfriend?"

"No, I can go," I say.

We find a restaurant down the street that isn't too crowded, and the other designers are great. Serg is two years older and lives in New York, and he designed a corset dress. Cooper lives with his family in Connecticut and designed a ball gown similar to Belle's gold dress in 'Beauty and The Beast.' He and his wife have three children and a peacock. Janie is the producer and she laughs at everything.

We're finished with lunch when my phone buzzes, and I grin to see it.

"Hey prince," I say.

"Hi button," Chris says. "My plane just landed and I'll be at the hotel soon."

"Wonderful," I say. "I've come to eat with the other designers — we're finished but do you want something from the restaurant?"

"I'll just order room service if that's all right with you," he says.

"Of course," I say. "I'll be back at the hotel when you get there. How was your flight?"

"Fine," he says. "Nothing unexpected or crazy."

"Prefect," I say. "Anyway, I'll see you in a few."

"Great."

I slide my phone back in my purse and Arnett leans across the table. "Boyfriend?"

"The one and only," I say. "His plane's just landed so I think I'll go back to the hotel now so I can greet him when he arrives."

"All right," Serg says. "It was great meeting you."

"You too," I say. "See you all tomorrow."

They smile as I leave the table and practically skip out of the restaurant. The cafe is only a few blocks from the hotel so it isn’t difficult to make it back and I make sure everything in my room is in its place, with the exception of my fabric. I check my makeup and hair, and I skip to the door.

“Christopher Robert!” I say when I see him standing there. He smiles and catches me when I jump into his arms. We kiss for a moment before I pull him into the room. "Come in!"

"Is that the dress, Clem? It's amazing!"

"Thank you," I say. "I take it upstairs at ten in the morning."

"I can come, right?"

"Of course," I say. "I would love for you to. What time is your dinner?"

"Eight," he says.

"I have a strange favor to ask."

"Oh?"

"Could we take a nap together now? I know we're in New York and we should be doing something fun, but I just missed feeling you next to me and holding me."

"Clem," Chris says, taking both of my hands in his, "that sounds amazing."

"It does?"

He nods and pulls me towards the bed. I giggle as he flops on his back and waves me forward, and I smile as I climb on top of him.

“You just want to nap, right?” he asks, his hands settling on my bum. “Because I’m willing to do other activities if you’re interested."

“Just nap,” I say, “for now. The rest of the world would think I’m crazy for not riding you like a lawnmower."

His whole body shakes with laughter and he traces my cheek with his fingers. “Like a lawnmower, huh?"

I nod, biting my bottom lip.

“You and I will get to the lawnmower thing when we’re ready,” he says. “I have no doubts about that."

“I don’t either."

“No?"

“Nope,” I say. “I don’t want to ruin this."

“Me either."

“I think it will be soon though."

“You do?” he asks, his gaze never breaking.

“Don’t you?"

“I have no pace,” he says. “Believe it or not, I consider myself lucky when a lady wants to sleep with me."

“God, I would love to see inside your brain."

“What?"

“You have every reason to be the world’s most arrogant and sexual asshole, and here you are completely happy to just grab my butt and make out."

“You have a very nice ass,” he says, giving it a nice squeeze. “If you had caught me even five years ago, you might have found a different person. I’d like to think I’m a little older now — a little wiser. I do have a question about that though."

“What?"

“What do you use since you’re allergic to latex? I mean, I know there’s lambskin condoms — do I need to buy some of those?"

“That’s a charming offer,” I answer, “but you don’t have to unless you just like the way they feel. I just got back my yearly test results and am disease free, and as for the baby thing, I’ve got an implant in my arm."

“What?"

I sit up over him, pull off my sweater and roll up the sleeve of my shirt. I find the little rod in my arm with my fingers and lift his up to it. “Just there. You can feel it."

“They shoved that in your arm?” He’s pressing the spot gently with wide eyes. He sits up beneath me and leaves his arm around my waist.

“Shoved isn’t the word I would use,” I say. “Since regular condoms were out of the question and most guys don’t want to pay for lambskin ones because they are more expensive — I don’t really want to pay for them either when my insurance covers this — I decided this was the best option. I was on the pill for awhile but I was horrible about taking it with my schedule. I didn’t really want an IUD because they really do work that up in there and you have to check for strings every month, nor did I want to do the ring for sake of having to put it in and make sure it’s in place. So the arm thing hasn’t failed me yet."

“What do they do to get it in there?”

"Numb your arm and stab the little applicator rod under the skin," I answer. "It's really not that bad since they do numb you up. Having them replaced is worse because they have to cut and dig around for it before pulling the old one out and then sliding in the new one. It’s sore for a few days and you have to keep it wrapped for awhile."

"I can't even imagine what it's like to be a woman."

"It's not always grand but some of it is pretty fucking fantastic."

"What do you do if you want kids?"

"It can be removed any time and some women get pregnant as early as week after that. It's not permanently doing any damage as far as we know and I'll have to get a new one in two years anyway."

"That's amazing."

"Science!" I say. "What about you? Do I need to be concerned about anything?"

He grimaces and then blushes.

"What?" I ask. "If you have AIDS, I promise my feelings won't change but you will have to buy some of the lambskin condoms and we’ll have to be careful."

"No, it's not AIDS," he says. "And I'm fine now. I've had crabs a couple of times and gonorrhea once too — everything is perfectly okay now. There was also a herpes scare, but I'm completely clean. Not even a carrier of that one."

"Eep," I say. "None of those things are fun. I had an ex call me months after we broke up to see if I was the bitch that gave him the clap. Thankfully it wasn't me but I went and got tested after that anyway. Well now we know where we stand."

"I'm still fascinated by the thing in your arm," he says, gently running his finger over it. "That's incredible."

"Isn't it? Four centimeters of plastic pumped full of progestin is keeping me from getting pregnant. But enough about that. We’re currently both disease free and I really like kissing you so we should get back to that."

"Yes, let's."

He sinks back down and takes me with him, and it is a very nice afternoon. 

Chris dresses for dinner later and leaves me alone. I text Arnett and she agrees to eat with me — we are in New York after all, and we grab Serg and head out. New York is lovely in any case, but it's especially magical in December and I wish Chris was actually here with me right now.

I wake when he comes to bed hours after I returned to the hotel, and I curl into his side.

"So?"

"We'll see," he says. "The script is good."

"Y'have a good time?"

"I did, button," he says, kissing my hair. "Go back to sleep. You have a big day tomorrow."

I hum as I squeeze his middle.

The dress is perfect and fits Alexandra like a glove. She smiles when she looks in the mirror.

"This is perfect," she says. "I love this one."

"Thank you," I say. A stylist works her hair into a curled updo and another assistant slides the custom Manolos on her feet.

"How do you feel?" Janie asks.

"This is beautiful," Alexandra says. "I like this one a lot."

"I'm glad," I say. "Would it bother you if my boyfriend were to come by?"

"Of course not," she says. "I'm not shy."

"That's if he wakes up anytime soon," I laugh, checking the satin buttons along her spine.

"It is pretty," Victoria, the author of the book, says, "but it might be too pretty. She looks so elegant, and how is he going to rip this off?"

"It's been my experience a man can rip off anything he chooses if he wants," Alexandra says, "and it's really quite enjoyable."

We giggle like schoolgirls while Victoria circles us. Janie talks with the photographer at the other end of the suite, and then there's a knock on the door.

"That'll be breakfast," Janie says, pulling it open. "What are you doing here?"

I look past her to see Chris leaning forward in a baseball cap with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"I'm here for Clemmie," he says.

"Hey Christopher Robert," I say, crossing the room. I take his hand and pull him inside. "This is my boyfriend, Chris."

"Clem-mieeee!" Alexandra cheers, picking up the layers of skirt and rushing towards Chris. "I had no idea you meant Chris Evans!"

“Honestly, I thought she was making you up the way she was being so cryptic,” Janie says. “All she would tell us is that you were also in the film industry. I didn’t know she meant Captain America."

"That's because I don't think of him that way," I say. "He's just Christopher Robert to me. This is Alexandra, Janie, Victoria and Andrew is the photographer over there."

"Hey," Chris says easily. He looks Alexandra over and his smile doubles. "The dress is even more stunning on you than it was on the mannequin."

"Have you considered auditioning for the movie?" Victoria asks. "You're the perfect look for Shaun."

"To be honest, I am cutting back on the acting. I want to focus my efforts into other things."

"That's noble," Alexandra says. She leans towards him away from Victoria. "You don't want to be Shaun anyway. He's a horrible character."

I nod in agreement. "But you, Miss Emilia Wright-Rathbone, look fantastic."

Alexandra smiles and twirls. "I really love the movement in this one."

"That was taken into consideration. Anyone dancing with William Levy is going to want to move."

"Who's that?" Chris asks quietly.

"He's actually like the Cuban version of you," Alexandra laughs.

"So he's got me beat with an accent then," jokes Chris.

"Nobody's got you beat, Christopher Robert," I say, rubbing his chest. "You can sit on that couch if you want. I have to get the dress all situated for the pictures."

We set Alexandra up next to the window, and it only takes a matter of minutes for Andrew to get all the pictures required. I get to take the dress back with me and Arnett arrives with hers as I'm helping Alexandra change.

"How did it go?" she asks.

"Really well," Alexandra answers. "She's got a gorgeous dress."

"And a gorgeous man sitting on the couch in there," Arnett laughs.

I grin as I hang the dress. "Thank you. I'm very happy with both things. Thanks, Alexandra, for being the perfect model. Good luck, Arnett."

"Thanks," she says. "This could be it for either one of us."

"I know," I say. I hug both of them before leaving the huge bathroom.

"Dinner tonight," Janie says. "We'll announce the winner then. Chris can come if you want."

I look to him and he shrugs. "Sure, he'll be there."

"Well, thank you for coming," she says. "I'm glad you were able to make it."

"Me too," I say. Chris takes the dress from me and holds the hanger over his shoulder so the bag doesn't drag on the ground, and he takes me hand in his other. I pull open the door and lean on him when it closes behind us. "Thank you for coming."

"Are you kidding? Who knew that is how you bustle a dress?"

I laugh and kiss the piece of arm closest to my face. "What now?"

"We are in New York in December," he says. "You just want to go get lost for awhile?"

"Yes. Can we buy hotdogs from a cart?"

"If that's what you want," he says. "Have you ever had a hotdog from a cart?"

"No, that's why I think I should try it," I answer.

"All right," Chris says. "There's a first time for everything, and you can experience the shits that run out of you afterwards."

"Maybe you just had a bad experience."

"Maybe," he says. We leave the dress in the room and put on a few extra layers before facing the cold New York weather.

It's fun being out with Chris like this. In reality, we haven't been on many dates and spending the afternoon milling about the city is amazing. He buys some nicknacks for his neices and nephews while I buy a few things for mine, and I get Care one of those lighters shaped like The Statue of Liberty and a New York piggy bank.

He makes me laugh constantly which is a welcome distraction from the decision of my future, and he helps me zip my dress into place for dinner. He looks incredibly good in dark pants with a gray cardigan, white and blue striped button up and he even wears a tie. I almost can't with him, but I really know I can.

"This is a pretty dress too," he says.

"Thanks," I say. "I made it."

"Fascinating. I would love to watch you work sometime. Like really work."

"I'm a mess when I do," I say. "Fabric everywhere, scissors, pencils, tape, sketches, swatches — you would be terrified."

"We'll have to see about that."

We meet Arnett, her lover Dean, Serg, Cooper and his wife Esther, the other frantic designer I hadn't met yet Molly, Janie, Alexandra and Victoria in the lobby, and all of us walk to the restaurant a few blocks away. Janie reserved a big table in the back, and I'm glad Chris is there to keep me from bouncing off the planet with anticipation. I'm a little nervous and a bit excited, and I wish they would just tell us which dress they're picking.

Small talk is easy but we all know that's exactly what it is, and finally after Janie's ordered desserts and champagne, she leans forward.

"You're all very talented designers," she says, "and this has been such a fun process. At this time, we have selected a dress which was very hard to do as they're all beautiful."

I feel it running through me. My dress was not chosen.

"We have decided Emilia will wear Arnett's dress when she marries Rodrigo." Victoria says quickly. "It was my favorite."

That seems fair since she brought the characters into the world.

"Congratulations," I say, squeezing Arnett's hand. "Your dress really is stunning."

"Thanks," she says. And we all drink champagne and celebrate, except for Molly who runs from the table as soon as it's announced.

Chris and I are quiet as we walk back to the hotel alone, the cold making both of our cheeks pinken.

"Are you upset?" He asks softly. "Because you don't seem upset."

"Of course I'm disappointed," I say, "but I allowed myself my few seconds of sadness in the restroom and now I'm moving on. Arnett's dress really is beautiful and Alexandra looks amazing in it — it'll be perfect on film. That's what Victoria wanted so that's fine. And I'm in New York at Christmastime with you and you smell so good and you look even better and you made me smile all day so much my cheeks hurt — and I get to wake up next to you in the morning and do it all again for one more day. So yes, I'm disappointed but I'm here with you now so I'm not going to let that tarnish it."

He's looking at me with happy eyes and his a wide smile, our breath making little clouds between us.

"I love you, Clemmie," he says. "I do. I know it's fast and I don't expect you to return it right now — are you on your phone?"

I am. I press the button, thankful Madge bought me some of those gloves you can use on a touchscreen last year. "Check your email."

He narrows his eyes at me before pulling his phone from his pocket. I watch his face as he reads over it because I can fit beneath his chin, even in heels. He grins when he looks at me.

"I wrote that over two weeks ago," I say. "I'm in love with you, Chris."

“Really?"

“Of course, you big lug. How could I not be?"

He scoops me up in his arms, rocking with laughter. "Clementine Rebekka Rogers, I love you! And I can't believe you love me too!"

"I do," I say, kissing him. It is a funny thing when you're a person of small mass — people are always picking you up like you need to be held; it is incredibly annoying. When Chris lifts me in his strong arms and holds me against his chest, I don't mind it at all. I feel safe and warm against the December cold, and it feels like he could be home.

"We should get inside," Chris says after a few minutes of delightful kissing. "It'll only get colder."

I kiss him again before he sets me on the ground and we hasten to our hotel.

Chris's phone buzzes and buzzes until he finally rolls over and picks it up.

"Shit."

"What?"

"We've been spotted," he says, showing me his phone screen. I blink a few times before seeing the headline. There are pictures of us holding hands and then a few of us on the corner kissing just after we confessed our love for each other.

"Well, that's a poop chute, isn't it? Do you still want to go out today?"

"Do you still want to go out?"

"Sure," I say. "What are the odds someone will spot us again and be a paparazzo?"

"This could change everything for you," he says. "I'm sorry, we shouldn't have gone out in public."

"Chris, I don't care," I say. "It is a little odd and only slightly unnerving at this point, but I would rather be with you and do regular things. I mean, those photos are kind of creepy in the fact that they captured a very private moment but that's also cool — we'll have that moment forever."

"Clementine," he coos, gently brushing my cheeks with his fingertips. "I am amazed by you."

"I know you didn't sign up for this," I say. “I know you didn’t want the reporters and photographers and the complications. I know you just love acting and having all this other stuff is a product of that. I also happen to know my outfit, hair and makeup were on point yesterday so that helps as well."

Chris laughs and kisses my forehead. “Let’s go out, Clemmie."

"Okay," I say. "Give me half an hour."

We go to FAO Schwartz first and Chris buys several things for his nieces and nephews, and he just nods when I tell him I’ve already sewn things for all of my gifts. We go ice skating by the big tree after that and pause for pictures.

Chris chuckles when his phone rings and he answers. “Hey man. Yeah, I am. Just hanging out with my girlfriend. You want to meet her? I’ll ask.” He pulls his phone away from his face. “This is Sebastian Stan on the line, and he and his wife would like to know if we want to join them for dinner at their place. Would you be interested in that?"

“That sounds delightful,” I say. “What is the dress and what kind of gift can we take?"

“The lady and I would like that very much,” Chris says. “What is the dress and what can we bring?” He nods again and smiles, taking my fingers in his. “All right, see you then man. Bye."

“The dress is casual,” he says, “and he said they don’t need anything."

“Well, surely we can take a nice bottle of wine or something."

“Maybe some cannoli,” Chris says.

“Can we go to Little Italy? Please. I’ve never been to Little Italy!” I’m bouncing on my toes.

“Yes,” he says. “Let’s go to Little Italy.” He takes both of my hands and pulls me close. “I never want you to lose your effervescence."

“Thank you?"

“I mean it, Clemmie,” he says. “You’re like champagne bubbles in human form."

“That’s a new one! I like that."

He brushes my cheeks with his cold fingers, and I giggle as his long eyelashes flutter against his skin. “You’re beautiful — inside and out — and I don’t think it’s a shock to anyone how I feel about you."

I giggle as I kiss his bottom lip. “You’re pretty fantastic yourself, prince. Come on, we make out in the car on the way to Little Italy!"

New York is the place of fairy tales, and being here with Chris is more than I could ever have hoped. We spend the afternoon laughing and buying things we don't need, and we end the time with a stop in a little Italian bakery.

Sebastian and Bette's apartment is in a very posh neighborhood, and the doorman nods when he sees us. "You must be the Stans' guests. Welcome."

"Thank you," Chris says, nodding at him as we pass through. Even the elevator is gorgeous.

"This place is magnificent," I say, leaning on Chris's shoulder.

"And Seb found it by himself," Chris says. "Bette moved in with him. Apparently she was living in the equivalent of your closet."

"St. Louis is a bit more affordable than New York," I say, and we step off the elevator together. He knocks on the red door and it opens a second later.

"Chris!" Sebastian says, jumping towards my boyfriend. They hug each other fondly and Sebastian's eyes move to me.

"This is Clemmie," Chris says. Sebastian hugs me and kisses my cheek.

"This is my wife, Bette," Sebastian says.

"Hello," Bette says, hugging me gently. She looks very soft and kind, not the kind of person I would have guessed Sebastian would have gone for but exactly the person I would have picked for him. He smiles fondly at her while she greets Chris.

"Come inside," she says, "Seb's just about gotten every thing ready. What can I get you to drink?"

"Water is fine," I answer as Sebastian pops the cap off a beer and hands it to Chris. I see a lot of couples together in my line of work, and it's always nice to see a couple with staying power; Sebastian's face softens every time he looks at Bette and her eyes sparkle ever so slightly whenever she sees him. It's in the little touches and the way they work together, like two bodies with one soul.

We're halfway through salads when I notice the picture on the piano behind Bette.

"Is that from your wedding?"

She looks around and grins. "It is."

"You both look absolutely stunning," I say. "And your Elie Saab is phenomenal. If I don't get married in one of my own, I'm thinking about one of his or Christian Siriano."

"Your own?" Sebastian asks.

"She designs wedding dresses," Chris says.

"They're my favorite and my specialty," I say, "but I can make any kind of dress. If you ever need a dress for an occasion, Bette, I can make you something — casual or formal."

Bette scratches the back of her neck and slides her hand under Sebastian's. "Could you make a maternity dress that's actually beautiful? I've been looking but everything is frumpy."

Chris is frozen until he giggles. "Bette, you're pregnant? That's great! I thought you two were waiting."

"We meant to," Bette says, "but oops! Baby will be here in June. We haven't told anybody outside of our family yet so if you would keep it quiet, we would really appreciate it."

"We're going to keep it quiet," Sebastian says, "for as long as we possibly can."

"Understood," Chris says, standing up from the table to hug them both. "That is so exciting."

"Congratulations," I say. “Babies are wonderful little creatures."

“I know,” Bette says. “I’m glad he doesn’t have any other obligations after Cap until this time next year so he can be here with me and the baby for the first few months. I don’t think I could do it alone."

"We've got a lot of help," Sebastian says. "My mom is already putting together a nursery in her home."

"That's lovely," I say. "I would be happy to make you a fabulous dress."

Bette smiles as her hand falls to her abdomen and Sebastian kisses her quickly but happily.

Chris kisses my knuckles when we get in the elevator a few hours later. “What’d you think?"

“I like them very much,” I say. “They’re great together. How’d they meet?"

“Officially — through the play,” he answers. “Unofficially it was a one night stand at a wedding."

“What?"

“Seb only ever told us that when he got drunk,” Chris laughs. “They started off as fuckbuddies for lack of a better term and ended up falling in love along the way."

“That’s lovely."

“Lovely?"

“Sure,” I say, “you can find love in the most unexpected of places,” I say, “and now they’re married and expecting a child. That’s lovely."

“Seb also said it was the best sex of his life so there’s that."

“That certainly helps things,” I say. “You know what I think we should do?"

“What’s that?"

“I think we should stay up all night watching movies and eating sweets and probably kissing."

“You think that?"

“Sure,” I say. “It’s almost Christmas and we haven’t even watched one Christmas movie together. What is that?"

“Okay,” he says. “I’m aged, you know, and I don’t know the last time I stayed up all night, but for you, I will do it."

“Yes!” I cheer, diving into the cab after Chris opens the door. “We’ll order hot chocolate from room service and wear our pajamas and I’ll run my fingers through your hair and it will be splendid."

"You like my hair?" He asks, sitting next to me. He gives the driver the hotel's address.

"I love your hair," I say. "I like it short of course but it's nice like this because I can grab you." I demonstrate this by curling my fingers in the length of his bangs. "I can give it a nice loving tug."

"That does feel nice," he says, looping his arms around my waist. "Do it again."

"You like it too, huh?"

He nods, pulling me closer to him. I run my bottom lip between my teeth as we look at each other, his gaze moving from my mouth to my eyes. I lightly scratch his head with my nails as I tug gently again.

Biting my bottom lip, he paws at my bum while I slide my hands under several layers to touch his abdomen.

"Here!" The cab driver yells loudly sometime later. "Get out!"

I guess he found our kissing uncomfortable. There aren't any paparazzi outside the hotel so Chris grabs my hand and we run through the doors.

"Package for you, Mr. Evans," the concierge calls. Chris shrugs and takes the box.

"John and Emily Rogers," Chris reads, "how about that."

"It's your Christmas present," I say. "I can't say what it is. Sorry if it's bad."

He smiles, "I'm sure I'll love it."

We keep ourselves in check on the elevator and I giggle when he opens the door.

"Pajamas?" I ask.

"Pajamas," he says.

When we're ensconced in the fancy bed and he's hooked my computer to the TV, he pulls out a little blue box.

"Merry Christmas," he says, passing it to me.

"You went to Tiffany?"

"I did," he says, "and it's hard because I know you would buy anything you wanted and you have so many nice things but I liked this one."

I pop the lid and find a shiny silver charm shaped like a Tiffany & Co. box on a silver chain.

"That's quite beautiful, isn't it?" I say, gently pulling the necklace from the box. "I love it."

"You're a gift, Clemmie, and I didn't want you to forget that."

I kiss him happily. "Thank you."

"There's more," he says.

"You didn't need to get me more," I say.

"I wanted to," he says, passing me another box.

"Well you should open yours from my parents so hopefully we'll know if my gift needs to atone for anything."

He laughs as he peels the tape back and the cardboard flaps pop up. Inside is a small silver box, a larger gray one and a jar.

"Mom and Dad's apple butter," I say, plucking the jar from the box. "Great on toast or crackers."

Chris looks at the brownish substance in the glass. "I will have to try that."

"It's won twice at the state fair," I say. "You're eating the recipe of champions."

He laughs, opens the small silver box and produces a key ring with a little charm attached to it.

"What's this?" He asks.

"Dad's own invention. You put that one your key ring and you'll never lose them. Inside is a small siren so you set the phrase — something you don't say often — and if you misplace your keys, you say the word and the siren gradually gets louder. To turn it off, you hit the little button on the back."

"How great," he says. "I will be sure to use it."

"What's left?"

He opens the last package and grins. "Cuff links." He olds them up so the three different sets of red, blue, and green squares glisten in the light.

"Stained glass," I say. "Mom made those for you."

"Stained glass?"

"Mom's hobby," I say. "She repairs them in old churches and buildings, and sometimes she keeps the remnants and makes things from there."

“They’re beautiful,” he says. “I’ll have to find an excuse to wear them."

“I’m just relieved she didn’t send you something embarrassing."

“Embarrassing?"

“When Oz and Liv got engaged, she sent Liv a painting of Oz as a centaur,” I say. “It’s hanging in their guest bathroom, and it’s always a good conversation piece."

“A centaur?” Chris laughs. “That is something I have to see."

“It is a sight,” I say. “Liv started crying she was laughing so hard."

“Open your other present.” It’s a larger box with white ribbons and red wrapping paper, and I grin as I open it. I find a few sketchbooks, the particular type of charcoal and pencils I use for my sketches and an even smaller box with a gift card to a fabric store.

“Chris, this is too much,” I say, looking at the amount on the card. “Too much."

“It’s not enough,” he says, “and that little box is for Do."

I pull it open to find a Marvel collar with a little bow sewn on it. “She’ll love that. Thank you."

He grins when I kiss him, and then I scurry off the bed and to the closet. “This is for you."

Chris takes the box from me and unwraps it quickly, his face spilling with joy. “Thank you, button."

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” he says.

“I know it will be great,” he says. He pulls out several sketchbooks bound with ribbon and laughs. “We share brain waves."

“We’re both easy to shop for, I guess.” The next item is a Mizzou baseball cap, third is a package of his favorite beer from St. Louis and then there’s another box along the bottom.

“What’s this?"

“So you can enjoy a con,” I say, watching his face as he opens it. Inside is a perfect Spider-Man costume in pristine condition. “It should fit you exactly. I can take it here and there as needed, but at least no one will know it’s you under there. It’s also more breathable than your Vader costume."

He reaches over me and pulls me on top of him, crushing the box between our legs. “Clemmie Rogers! You’ve made me Spider-Man."

“I have!” I say.

“Did you want to watch the movie first or skip straight to the making out part?"

“I’m keeping you up all night so it doesn’t really matter to me,” I answer, “but I would very much like to kiss you right now because I love you."

“I love you,” he says, brushing my hair away from my face. I awkwardly reach between us and toss the box on the floor, and his hands slide to his favorite curves.

“The movie can wait,” I say, kissing his jaw.

Chris and I dance, drink, laugh, and we both cry while watching Love Actually. His crying quickly becomes one of my favorite things about it — it started to as a tear when I was already blubbering, and then it turned into a laugh when we looked at each other. Tears rolling down his blushed face while he’s smiling from ear to ear is my favorite look on him. We lay in the quiet for several long but short minutes, and I don’t want to leave him.

“Button,” he says softly, tugging lightly on my wrist late the next morning. We both have dark circles under our eyes, and I think he’s got a cold settling in. “I love you."

I stand between his legs and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you, too. I wish we didn’t have to part."

“Me too,” he says. “Maybe one of these days I’ll move to St. Louis."

I guffaw. “Please, a Pats fan amongst the Rams. That will never work out. Not to mention the Cards over the Red Sox. You couldn’t do it."

“You’re right,” he laughs. “I couldn’t do it."

“I, on the other hand, don’t have strong feelings one way or another about sports games so I could move to Boston."

“You couldn’t leave your job. You’re too good at it."

“I know,” I say. “Well, we don’t have to make any arrangements yet, do we?"

He shakes his head, his eyes on my lips. “I’m going to kiss you now until the car the gets here. Is that all right with you?"

“Yes,” I say, looping my fingers through his hair. “Please make this last."


	7. Chapter 7

"You have to carry these in?" Chris asks, taking two of the vases I pull from the trunk.

"Just today," I say. "These go on the gift tables. These two go on the cupcake table."

"How about that?" he says, sniffing the pink peony in front of his nose. "I am happy to really see you in action."

"You may not feel that way at two in the morning," I laugh as I lock my car. We make our way carefully down the snow covered sidewalk and up the steps. It's New Year's Eve and the wedding is the Jane Austen themed one. It's at an old mill and the inside is the perfect setting.

"I'm sure it'll be great. I get free cake!"

"I put you down for the beef," I say, "but you're eating in the kitchen with me so you can have whatever you can get your hands on."

"That sounds nice."

"It's a perk," I say. "The tastings are fun but you can eat everything if you know the right person. I happen to know that right person."

A boy holds the door open for us, Chris hiding his face behind the flowers. I lead him to the reception hall where I set my vases on the nearest table and take one of his.

"Follow me."

"This is a dream," he says. "Like, really. I feel like I'm in a rose garden."

"For all intents and purposes," I say, "you are. Like the gardens at Pemberley but indoors."

In fact the entire place is lit softly with yellow lights and flickering candles. White and blushing roses fill vases sprinkled with peonies and the most delicate petals. Lace lines the tables and it is simply breathtaking.

"Give me a tangible, unique and beautiful theme," I say, "and I'll bring it to life." He follows me to the tables closest to the wall. "You can put that vase in the center. The bakers will be bringing the cakes during the wedding so they'll be arranged then."

I watch him as he runs his finger along the table cloth. The white China plates are set on pale pink placemats even though they'll be collected before the food starts. A string quintet will be performing for the first two hours of the reception, and then a DJ will take over to ring in the New Year. It truly is a wonderful atmosphere.

"Sweet Clementine!" Dixon says, coming from the side door that leads to the kitchen.

"Ba ba ba!" Daisy, his sister and co-caterer cheers.

"Hey guys," I say, lining up the vase. I make introductions between our group. "They cater a good portion of my weddings because they do a fabulous job."

"Thank you," Dixon says. "We can fix you a plate if you want a snack."

"We can try something small," I say. "Certainly wouldn't want to be an inconvenience."

"You're not," Dixon says. "Besides, how often do you get to cook for your girlfriend's roommate's boyfriend?"

"Thank you," Chris says. "I'll eat whatever you put in front of me."

"You should bring him to every tasting," Dixon laughs.

"I would if I could," I say. "Anyway, do you mind if we check on the chapel and then we'll come to you in say — ten minutes?"

"Sounds perfect," Daisy says. "See you then."

"There's a chapel here?"

"A smaller hall," I say. "The new owners designated it a chapel. It's quaint and perfectly decorated for this type of wedding."

I shift the flowers on the gift table one more time as we leave, and then I take his hand as we head down the hall.

"I feel like I've walked into a fuckin' dream," Chris says as I hold open the door for him. Instead of being lit overhead, light flickers from sconces on the wall and decorations of roses line the aisle. The room is pristine and quite lovely, and I hope Austen herself would be proud. "I can't believe you know how to pull all of this together."

"It's a passion of mine."

"Yes," he says, "I should hope so." He pulls me around and slides his arms to my hips. "This is truly magical."

"Thank you," I say. "I told you the one you were in was a run-of-the-mill sort. I did a Harry Potter wedding once that would have blown your mind. It's one my favorites. There were floating candles, guests received wands, a snowy owl greeted our friendly Muggles on the way in, a wizard performed the ceremony, and of course Butterbeer was flowing and chocolate frogs were given as treats."

"You're so cute when you talk nerdy," he says. "Your excitement just lights up your pretty little face and I've been struggling with not kissing you while you were going on about floating candles and Butterbeer."

I grin as I kiss him beneath a cascade of roses.

"Hem-hem."

"Oh, Minister Collins," I say, heat rising in my cheeks. "This is my boyfriend, Chris. He's joining me for all the heavy lifting today. Chris, this is Minister Collins. He's officiating."

"Wonderful," Minister Collins says stiffly. "Please remember while I am here and two or more of us are gathered, this is a house of God."

Chris's hand is still on my ass.

"Of course, sir," I say. "I need to be back in the reception hall anyway."

"Very good," Minister Collins says.

Chris and I make it to the hall before bursting with giggles. "You won't get in trouble for that, will you?"

"No," I say. "I doubt he'll tell anyone we were caught tongue to tongue in the chapel. It is a celebration of love after all."

"I am stunned," he says, "really. I've been on some impressive movie sets but you got all this together to help make a couple's dreams come true. It's incredible."

"I'm glad you think so," I say. "Most men don't find my career choice quite so charming."

"What can I say — I'm a romantic."

We head through the reception hall where the waitstaff have arrived and are adjusting their costumes — the men in crisp waistcoats with the classic white wigs and the women in long plain dresses with their hair pulled up as best as it will go. The bride picked the outfits and they're being well paid — I personally wouldn't subject anyone to such unless it was adventure themed, like knights and ladies or pirates. Their boss reviews the serving policy and waves as we pass.

"This is really something," he says. "Do you do other events?"

"Not really," I say, "but I suppose I could."

"It's just I do things here and there and to have your touch would really make things magical."

"Darling, you can always have my touch." I wink at him as I squeeze a rather firm ass cheek tucked into the most entrancing gray Armani pants. While the other guests will most likely be donning outfits out of an Austen novel, I told my sweet prince regular clothes would suit him just fine. No one will be staring at him simply because he's not dressed exactly for the occasion.

"There they are," Dixon says. "I'm finishing off a Wellington now if you would like to try it."

"Yes, of course," I say. I turn to Chris. "I know and love everything Dixon cooks, but part of my duties as planner allow me to taste the food before it is served to make sure it is up to the bride's standards. I pretend like I don't see him on a regular basis."

"Medium rare all right?" Dixon asks, looking over my shoulder.

"Sounds perfect," Chris says.

"Good, 'cause that's how it tastes best." Dixon slides a beautiful plate of Beef Wellington towards us with two forks. "Don't even need a knife."

"You can have the honors," I say, handing Chris a fork. Dixon and I wait with bated breath as he slices through the thin crust. He eats it slowly and nods his head.

"That is delicious," he says. "Like, really good."

"It's not exactly regency food," Dixon says, "but it's what she wanted. We offered pheasant and pork and apple."

“A lot of this actually isn’t regency,” I say, “but we do what we can."

"I think you've done an amazing job," Chris says. "All of you — this is great."

"Thanks, boo," I say. "Anyway, we need to check on the hall, but we'll sneak back in for some food."

"Sounds great," Dixon says. "We'll save you the best ones."

"Thanks, D!" I say, pulling Chris back down the little hall between the kitchen and reception area.

The waitstaff has arrived and are being advised on their order of service. The quartet will arrive during the wedding service, and the guests should begin arriving any minute.

"I have to go check on the bride and groom," I say. "Would you want to wait in the chapel for just a moment? You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all," he says. "I'll be very inconspicuous."

The wedding party is very near ready and the photographers are busy at work. The bride is overjoyed when I tell her everything looks beautiful, and her mother pulls me into a hug.

The ceremony is lovely and romantic, but that is the easy part. The guests are ushered to a flower-filled tent for brandy and themed mixed drinks, like the Darcy Daquiri and Price Punch. Chris steals one of each and sneaks them for us. The wedding party is taking pictures in the chapel; and the guests are slowly being ushered into the reception hall. Chris and I stand along the back wall, blending amongst the flowers.

"This is the best part."

I watch Chris as he watches the guests enter, their faces full of awe and wonder. Some of them curtsy and bow to one another while others clasp their hands over their mouths.

"That look," Chris says, taking my hand, "you did that."

"I know," I say. "Anyway, now I need to get the crier in place so he can announce the wedding party."

"There's a crier?"

"Only at this wedding. Do you mind staying here?"

"Of course not," he says.

The crier kicks off the wedding and the guests are served dinner while the quartet plays softly in the corner.

I pull Chris back to the kitchen with me and Dixon smiles.

"All the reviews are good," I say. "A hit as usual."

"Well, here are your plates," Dixon says. "Enjoy."

We eat quickly and the food is delicious, and I leave Chris at a table with the groomsmen while I guide the crier through the toasts, cake cutting and dances. When that's over, I finally have reprieve until the bride and groom are ready to leave, and I sidle up to Chris.

"Are you having a good time?" I ask, sliding my arm across his middle when he drapes his along my shoulders. He kisses the side of my head.

"Weddings are always great," he says. "All the romance and love and well-wishes."

"I'm sorry I had to abandon you," I say.

"It's your job," he says. "If you came to set, you wouldn't expect me to drop everything."

"Thank you," I say. "Did you grab some cake?"

"I did," he says, "it was delicious."

"I'm glad," I say. "I saw you dancing with that bridesmaid."

Chris smiles shyly. "She asked and it felt wrong to deny her."

"I'm not mad," I say. "I was just wondering if you thought we could show up everyone else."

“Please!” he laughs. “We could dance circles around these buffoons in our sleep."

He stands up and offers me a hand which I take, and we skip out onto the dance floor. Dancing with Chris totally makes the entire night of working seem worth it. He's goofy and tries to sing every song even though he doesn't know the words, and I laugh until the music switches to a slow song. Chris grins at me, tosses my hands over his shoulders and puts his on my waist.

We stay on the edge of the dance floor where it's darker, and I'm glad we do because Chris isn't afraid to kiss me here. We move slowly, melting together in one embrace. His lips are soft and warm, and he tastes like champagne and cake. I run my fingers through the short hairs at the base of his neck, smiling as he kisses me, peaceful like a spring rainstorm with the windows open and book waiting to be devoured from the confines of a cozy blanket.

The song ends and I'm sad to pull apart from him. "What time is it?"

"11:54," he says. "You have to run again?"

"Only in the next year," I answer with a wink. "You have me for six more minutes and a New Year's kiss."

When the countdown ends and the metaphorical ball drops, we kiss happily with a toast of champagne, and I leave my wonderful boyfriend in the care of the drunk bride who couldn't stand for Captain America to be at her wedding with providing her with one dance. The crew has finished cleaning the chapel, the bride and groom will be making their exit in a few minutes in which case the remaining guests will be asked to leave. I just have to oversee the cleanup which should run smoothly and then I can take Chris home.

The only thing is that Chris is really drunk. With an open bar and a whole room of people bringing him drinks, I can't imagine it was hard to do. He's absolutely useless when I load the car, so I leave him in a chair in the lobby.

“Clemmie!” He shouts when I open the door. “You look so pretty tonight. Did I tell you that?"

“You did, sweetheart,” I say. “Are you ready to go?"

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, his accent thick. He sinks back against the wall.

“Do you feel sick at all?"

“No! I’m totally fine. I feel great!” He stands and sways, erupting with laughter. I catch him by his chest and toss his arm around my shoulder. “Thanks, Clem. You’re the best."

“You’re welcome,” I say. “I feel like we’ve got a long night ahead of us."

“No, no,” he says. “This was great. It’s so much fun. That violist was great. You’re really pretty."

“Thanks,” I say, “let’s get you to the car."

It’s slow and he’s cumbersome, but I eventually get him into the passenger seat and he giggles when I buckle his seat belt.

“This car is really great,” he says, rubbing his hands along the dashboard. “So pretty."

Luckily he makes it back to the apartment before throwing up, and I manage to get him stripped down to his boxers and in bed. I'm exhausted by the time I roll him onto his side and he's snoring loudly within seconds.

Chris is like a lounging lion, his body taking up most of my bed. I’ve never seen him this inebriated before, and it was rather endearing. I ready myself for bed and pick his clothes off the floor. Dorota pants merrily when I replace her water and she settles in her bed tucked in the corner of my room. Lifting Chris’s outstretched arm, I slip underneath it and wrap it around myself. He looks perfectly angelic in the orange glow filtering through the windows at the top of the wall, even as the littlest bit of drool dribbles from the corner of his mouth. That giddy feeling you get when you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be spreads through me, and I curl up next to the man I love.

He sleeps well past noon the next day and groans loudly when he finally comes out into the living room.

"I was really drunk last night, wasn't I?"

"What gave it away, sleepy head?" I ask, getting off the couch and heading towards him. "Have you brushed your teeth yet?"

"I did," he says, "and I washed my face. Do you mind that I borrowed some of your moisturizer? That stuff is amazing."

"No, I don't mind," I say. "Come sit down. I'll make you some food."

He comes to the kitchen and flops onto the stool. "I'm sorry, Clemmie. I didn't mean to get so drunk."

"It's okay," I say. "You didn't grope anyone and you made it to the toilet on time."

"I threw up, didn't I?"

"Yes," I answer, "and you still need a shower." He nods. I pass him a glass of water. "When you're ready, there's coffee, Coke or Gatorade. Pick your poison. It's the afternoon but I'm making you eggs and toast so you may want the coffee."

"Have you already eaten?"

"I have," I answer. "Breakfast and lunch, but you were sleeping so well I thought it was best to leave you there."

"It's afternoon?"

"Indeed," I say. "Do you feel better?"

He shrugs. "Did you have any plans?"

"Just spending the day with you,” I answer. “Is there anything you want to do?"

“Not drink any alcohol today,” he says.

“Sounds fine.” I slice butter and drop it in the pan, and he rubs his eyes.

"God, I'm so sorry I've wasted so much time by sleeping."

"I understand," I say. "It gets hard turning away drinks when they're being brought to you."

"You have this problem?"

"Not to brag," I answer, "but your girlfriend happens to get propositioned by many guests at every wedding she works."

"With good reason," he says. He reaches over the counter to the sink, and refills his cup with water. "I know it's cold out, but is there something nature-y we could do? I always like nature to right me after a heavy night."

"Botanical garden," I say. "It's beautiful. We can go see a movie too."

"I would love to see a movie with you."

His eggs are almost finished and I pop the buttered bread into the toaster.

"Eat up and shower," I say, putting the finished eggs on a plate, "and we'll go."

The garden is practically empty which makes it even more breathtaking. Chris and I don't talk much, mostly because he stops every few feet and gazes at the towering double coconut palms or the fish swimming in ponds. I mostly watch him and feel the warmth of his hand in mine. We giggle when they let us into the butterfly garden and Chris is perfectly dreamlike as the colorful creatures land on his shoulders and head. A beautiful blue morpho butterfly lands on my cheek and Chris grins as he watches. He carefully steps closer to me, and the butterfly flutters away just before his lips press against the spot recently vacated.

I want him. My God, do I want him!

Sitting through the movie is torturous; he smells so good and he's so warm and he keeps rubbing my arm as I rest my cheek against his chest. Watching Mark Ruffalo die at the end kind of kills it though, and I begrudgingly drag Chris to the diner down the street.

"You're amazing," he says softly as we're humped over in the booth trying to talk quietly. "I've had a wonderful day with you."

"It's been great spending it with you," I say. "I can't wait until we go camping and I get to watch you take everything in an actual natural environment."

"You'll go camping with me?"

"Yes! I love camping. It'd be fun to spend time with you in a tent under the stars. I do require bottled water though."

"That's fair. Clem, let's go camping!"

"When it's warm," I say. "I'll do rain but I don't do snow."

"Okay," he says. I rub his ankle with the toe of my shoe. I've finished my food and just need the go-ahead from him. "I can't wait for the check." He pulls a hundred dollar bill from his wallet and tosses it on the table. Standing quickly, he offers me a hand. "Let's go."

We hurry out of the restaurant and I drive home the fastest way I know how. I can't keep my hands off his sculpted chest as we slowly climb up the stairs, stopping every other step to kiss frantically.

Only to be greeted by a very happy yet restless Dorota.

"Oh Do!" I whine, grabbing her leash from its hook. "Let's go."

She barks cheerfully as Chris scratches her ear. He shrugs when I clip on her leash and the three of us are back out the door.

"Where are Dixon and Care?"

"They're staying at his apartment for a few days," I say. "They like to mix things up."

We walk out into the cold and my wanton need abades again. This is fucking annoying.

Dorota doesn't seem to feel the electricity between us because she stops to smell the little drifts of snow, fire hydrants and parking signs. Her breath makes little clouds of fog and I smile. At least she's happy now.

"You want to chill out on the couch for a bit?" Chris asks as he opens the door to my apartment. We both have rosy cheeks and I rub my hands together to gain some warmth.

"Sure," I say. "Water?"

He nods, pulling off his coat. Dorota snuggles into her bed in the corner, and Chris is reclined on the couch when I return. I lay down in front of him, and he drapes his arm over my waist.

"I've been watching Vikings," he says, kissing my temple. "It's amazing. Travis Fimmel is really underrated, but you know who my favorite is?"

"Athelstan?"

"He's cool too but I really like Lagertha. She's incredible."

"Isn't she? I hope to be just like her when I grow up."

Chris smiles as twirls one of my curls around his finger. The TV is on but we haven't even changed the channel yet, leaving it on a house flipping show.

"You're lovely just the way you are."

I roll over towards him as he rolls onto his back. Kissing him, I curl my fingers in his hair as his hands settle to their favorite place on my bum.

"I've been waiting for you to do that all day," I say, dragging my teeth along his jaw.

"You like that?"

I hum complacently. "You like it too."

"I do," he says, tightening his grip. I slip my hands beneath his Henley and feel the warmth of his chest while he kisses me. Minutes pass, possibly an hour, while we remain wrapped up in each other on the couch. He's hard in his jeans and I sigh when I pull away.

"We should get ready for bed."

Chris can't hide his disappointment, but he nods. We brush our teeth together and Chris leaves the bathroom so I can change into my pajamas.

I look at myself in the mirror. If this is going to happen tonight, I might as well look cute and confident, even if that's not exactly how I feel. I mean, I love him and I want this to happen, but he is Chris Evans. I have no idea how many women he's been with and I'm sure most of them looked like supermodels and I'm just me. I shouldn’t have taken the break to change into the lingerie I bought just for this occasion.

"You all right, button?" Chris calls from the bedroom. I take a deep breath and nod to no one.

"I'm fine," I say, opening my bathroom door. He's reclined in my bed but sits up straight when he sees me. I pause in the doorway, and a smile spreads across my lips. His mouth hangs open and he blinks a few times.

"You're more than fine," he says eventually. He's standing in front of me, his fingers reaching for my shoulders. They don't touch me though; instead they hover like he's afraid I'll break if they land on my skin. "You're beautiful."

"I know," I quip. He laughs, finally letting his hands drop. My skin immediately breaks out in gooseflesh and I shiver. "Wow."

I'm looking at his chest because it's level with my eyes. It's perfect and muscular and covered with hair and my hand is on it.

"Wow." He echoes, his skin warm beneath my palm. I don't say anything as my fingers run over the dark hair, feeling his chest rise and fall under my hand. This is happening. He slips a finger under the strap of the sexy little baby doll slip and watches the way the fabric moves. I take another deep breath as I look up at him, and he smiles. "I love you."

I relax with the words, not realizing I had been holding my breath. I didn't need to hear them but it helps. Standing on my toes, I press my lips to his.

Chris wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me up since I'm so much shorter. I circle his hips with my legs, locking my ankles together. He tastes like toothpaste and smells like aftershave; it's all very good. I moan as his hands grip my ass which is mostly uncovered in my thong.

I want to kiss him forever, to taste the sharpness of mint and the heat that is him. My lips move from his to his jaw and cheeks, every bit of skin tasting different from the others. His breaths come quickly now, his fingers dig into my bum and his head falls backwards. I kiss his neck, trying to learn every point he likes and sucking a few places I like.

"Clemmie." It's shallow and soft as he struggles to keep his control. I part from his neck long enough to meet his gaze in the dim light cast from the lamp. His lips are dark and plump and delicious, and I have the hardest time staying away from them. "May I take you to bed?"

"Please do," I say. "I would like that very much."

He chuckles and rests his forehead against mine. "I'm glad you would."

I like feeling the way his body moves as he takes the few steps to my bed, all those muscles and bones working together. I also like the way his collar bones and chest taste under my lips and tongue. He sits on the edge of the bed, and I'm still completely wrapped around him.

I sigh as his hands slip from my bottom up my back beneath the slip. He wants to touch me as much as I want to touch him, and the thought of my skin on his is thrilling.

He seems to think so too as his fingers graze the hem and slowly lift. I keep my eyes on him as the fabric leaves my body and it is amazing. Adoration lights his features as he takes in the sight of my chest, and his hands land lightly on my breasts.

"They won't break, you know," I say when he hasn't moved for several long seconds.

"I know," he says. "I'm just trying to not let my nerves get me. When you're holding something this perfect, it's hard not to let the weight of that get in your head."

Grinning, I wrap my hands around his neck. "Goodness gracious, Christopher Robert. You're lovely."

His eyes finally shift from my chest to my face. He smiles and those long eyelashes touch his beautiful cheeks for a second.

"And there's nothing to mess up," I say. "We're humans — we heal. And you can't break breasts. I'm the one sitting here more naked than I've ever been with you. I'm nervous, too."

"Don't be nervous, button."

"Maybe if you'd start moving those hands, our hormones would take over and the nerves would be replaced by something else."

He laughs and rests his forehead against mine. His eyes are closed so I do the same and his hands wrap around my waist.

"I just don't want this to be worse than what you're expecting."

"I'm not expecting anything. If you want to wait, we can wait."

"Who said anything about waiting?" He laughs. I open my eyes to see him staring at me. "I love you, Clemmie, and you're beautiful — I just don't want you to not be satisfied at the end of it."

"I'm pretty sure I'll be satisfied," I say. "I'm not a difficult person to please. I shouldn’t have wanted to impress you. We should have just continued on the couch."

“You were trying to impress me? I’m impressed all the time."

“I thought putting on that sexy little nightie might make things a bit more festive, but now we’re kind of stuck."

"We're not stuck, button," he says. "We're just taking a brief moment to inventory ourselves and our feelings."

"And how do we feel?"

"We feel really good," he says. "Divinely good."

"Oh?"

He nods, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling my chest to his. Sinking into the mattress, he grins against my lips and I feel that tightening of excitement in my belly. This is happening.

Kissing him now with our chests together, his ribs between my knees and his hands kneading my ass is enough to make me moan. In this moment, he is everything. He rolls us over and moves his lips to my neck, kissing me gently. I feel the strength of his back beneath my hands and he moans when I curl my fingers into his bum beneath his boxer briefs.

I feel like I'm falling from a cliff on a warm spring day but I'm not worried about the impact of my landing. The feeling of his breath on my chest is like birds chirping and the heat from his hands on my hips and breasts sends merry shivers throughout my body. I push his underwear down his legs and he shakes his legs until they're gone. Snaking his fingers beneath the strings of my panties, he pulls them off my legs and smiles.

"You okay?"

"Yes," I say, looking at him while he looks at me. He’s standing with his hands on his sides with one leg stretched out, showing off that perfect ratio of his shoulders to his hips. He cocks an eyebrow at me and smiles. “You like what you see?"

“I do,” I answer. “Very much. How are things on your end?"

I’m laying on the bed, propped up on my elbows. His eyes move up my body and I feel heat spread through me. “Things are great. You know you’re gorgeous."

I giggle and reach for his hand. He falls back into bed beside me and kisses my lips fondly. My skin tingles with his touch as he pulls my leg over his and slips his hands to the place that’s been left rather ignored until now. A sigh escapes me as he softly kneads my clit with his fingers, and I squeeze his arm when he slides a finger inside me.

“So soft,” he whispers. I can’t reply so I nod with eyes closed and mouth open. Chris leans towards me and kisses the side of my face as I shift my hips to rock against his hand. Being with him like this is intoxicating, like taking a hot bath while enjoying a good book and a glass of red wine. He knows how to move his fingers, and I feel that coiling in my stomach. It is with a quiet moan I orgasm, my muscles clenching around his finger. “Beautiful."

He’s smiling when I open my eyes, and he brushes my hair behind my ear.

“That was nice."

“Are you ready for more?"

“Definitely,” I answer, wanting — no, needing — needing him inside me now. He moves his hand to my hip as he slides forward, his lovely and well-defined cock slipping easily inside me. The short gasp I release frightens Dorota who barks, making us both jump. Chris laughs first and kisses me.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a gentleman caller over,” I say.

“She’s just worried about you,” he says, never losing his slow and luxurious pace. I grab his plump ass with my hand and he sighs. “Are you all right?"

“Yes, is there something I can do for you?"

“Nope,” he says. “I like your hand there."

“Noted.” I give his bum an extra squeeze. I press my lips to his and it’s easy to forget about the nicety of a first time together. He rocks his hips a bit faster and kisses me a little more recklessly and suddenly I’m pulling him on top of me. He hooks my knees over his shoulders and pushes with his legs, making things that much sweeter and euphonious. He pins my arms above my head and kisses me, all the while pushing me higher and higher.

Christopher Robert Evans is the definition of perfection during sex. He’s strong and powerful yet he handles me delicately like I’m a treasure worth keeping. We’re both panting and sweat forms on his brow, and like he knows I’m close, he lets go of my hands and rubs my clit with his fingers.

My whole body trembles as I come, and I hear him grunt above me. He thrusts a few more times before slowing, and he cradles me between his arms. We kiss for several minutes and I feel my body return to it’s normal if not more relaxed state.

“I love you,” I say, running my thumbs over his cheeks.

“I love you, too,” he says. “You’re beautiful when you come, you know?"

“Thanks,” I say. “I like the noises you make."

He bites his lip and rolls to the side. “Shall we actually go to bed now?"

“I think so,” I say.

"Oh Clem," Chris mutters softly. "That feels nice. You're eager this morning."

I roll over to see Chris's eyes are still closed and sweet Do is licking his face. I laugh and nudge his abdomen.

"My kisses are sweeter than that."

He opens one eye just a smidge and grins. "Your dog loves me too."

"Of course she does," I say. "She loves you because I love you and you're a good person."

I snuggle into his side while Dorota jumps up on the other and lays down.

"I'm sad they always paint out your freckles," I say. "You've got all these gorgeous freckles but you never see them in movies or pictures."

"You're praising me about gorgeous freckles when you've got all those? It's like the sun spent days and nights kissing you."

"I'm a ginger," I laugh. "What can I say?"

He runs his hand absently along my side. "Do we get breakfast or stay in bed?"

"Stay in bed," I answer, "for as long as Do will let us."

He laughs and scratches his head. "If ever I think I'm the one wearing the pants in this relationship, just remind me of last night."

"Why do you say that? I think this will work better if neither of us is wearing pants."

"You got Care and Dix out of the apartment, you looked damn near perfect yesterday and you bought a sexy nightie just for the occasion. You had the whole thing planned."

"Not entirely," I say. "I was really planning on having my wicked way with you New Year's Eve. Alas, you got shitfaced and were unable to attend the night's events."

"You mean we could have done that sooner had I not gotten drunk?"

I nod, drawing circles in the hair of his chest.

"That's it!" he says, clapping a hand on my bum. "I'm giving up alcohol right now."

"Nonsense," I say. "Sometimes drunken sex is the best sex."

"Well, I'll just tone it down then," he says.

"Your liver thanks you."

Chris smiles and tilts my chin to his. I could get used to this kind of heaven.


	8. Chapter 8

“Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap."

“You all right, Clem?” Chris asks, holding out his hand to me. We had been snuggling on the couch with me in his lap until my phone rang in the bedroom and I hastily ran to get it.

“Yes! That was Kleinfeld."

“Who?"

“You know ‘Say Yes to the Dress,’ the TV show with the brides and the dresses?” Chris nods. “The store where they film it just called and they’re interested in me! Apparently Andrew, the photographer from the fitting with Alexandra, shoots for them too and he showed them pictures of my dress. That was Barb, their buyer and she wants to see my stuff!"

“Clem, that’s amazing! Congratulations."

“Thanks! We have to go the fabric store immediately. I mean, I have to go. You don’t have to go. I have to go."

“I’ll go with you,” he says. “I would love to go with you. What do you need?"

He climbs off the couch while I pull on my boots. “I need ten dresses. I currently have eight and one I’ve halfway put together. What am I going to do for the last one?"

“You’ll think of something,” he says, pulling at my waist. “You always do."

I stand on my toes and kiss him quickly before jerking on my coat. “Let’s go!"

Chris is the perfect partner for fabric shopping — he carries the multiple bolts I pick out and provides input on which fabrics he thinks will look best on camera. He has experience with this after all.

“Do you care if I’m boring the rest of the day?” I ask, dropping my bag on the living room floor.

“Be boring all you want,” he says. “In fact, how ‘bout I take Do for a walk, and I’ll start on supper when we get back."

“You would do that for me?"

He nods. “I definitely would."

I kiss his cheek as he grabs Do’s leash from the hook and pets her head.

 

Chris disappears for an hour, giving me ample time to sketch a few things and get my sewing machine into place. I’m sitting at the kitchen table when he and Do return and she runs to my side.

“Did you have a great time?” I ask her, stroking her head affectionately. She leans against my side for a moment before running to her water bowl.

“I took her to the park,” he says. “She’s a beautiful dog."

“I know,” I say. “Thank you for doing that."

“Of course,” he says, pacing around the kitchen. He’s pulling things out of grocery bags and putting them on the counter. “We also went to the store and I’m making clam chowder."

“Sounds fantastic,” I say. “What did I do to deserve you?"

He winks at me as he walks around the kitchen. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” He kisses me before turning my sketchbook towards him. “This is cool. Is this what you’re going for?"

“I think so,” I say. “It’s a little different but it should fit in with the others. You know, like every designer typically has a thing — sequins, fabric flowers, corset dresses, something — so I’m keeping with the lace and pearls."

“That’s really pretty,” he says, “Can I help you do anything?"

“Nope,” I say. “Please feel free to make my apartment your apartment."

He sits in the chair closest mine and flips through pages of the sketchbooks. I finish a hem while he browses, the only sound in the room the mechanical movement of the machine and the soft sounds of one of my favorite playlists for sewing.

“Clem,” Chris says softly, minutes later.

“Hmm?” I hum because I’ve got pins between my teeth.

“When did you draw these?"

I finish the line I’m sewing before looking up, and he’s got the sketch book turned in my direction. It’s pages of Chris, and just about every part of him too. His arms, his hands, his face, his head, his eyes, nose, lips, his legs, his feet, his chest… they’re just sketches but he would definitely know the drawings were of him. This is my personal sketchbook, the kind I keep like some people fill a diary.

“To be honest,” I answer, “some of those I drew after that first night I met you. I’ve just added to them since. Those are just sketches though, so sorry if something is unflattering."

“Unflattering, Clem? Are you kidding? This is the most flattering thing I've ever seen. Is this how you see me?"

"Yes, I think so. My best artistic representation anyway."

"I had no idea you were paying this much attention."

"You're lovely, everything about you is lovely. How could I not pay that much attention to you?"

"Can I be a distraction right now?" Chris asks, sliding his hand to my knee.

"Yes," I say, switching off my sewing machine. Everything will keep for a few minutes. I climb onto his lap and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me incredibly close. He flinches when I slide my cold hands beneath his shirt but quickly brushes it off with a cock of his eyebrow and spectacular side grin I've come to love so much.

"You always say you want to see inside my brain," he says, rubbing the bottom of my spine, "but I want to see inside yours. The way you drew me is unreal — to think you see all that when I don't see it myself—"

"Shhh," I hush him with a finger to his lips. "I only draw what I see. You must know you're absolutely wonderful."

In a display of sweeping affection that burns through my whole body, he slides his hands to my bum and lifts me even closer, our lips pressed together in the end. I pull off his T-shirt sometime later, and he helps me out of my socks and leggings minutes after that. His jeans are unbuttoned and his boxer briefs are pulled down just enough for me to straddle his lap.

Moving with him like this feels like something from a fairytale, like the evil queen has been defeated and the cruel king vanquished. He keeps his hands on my ass, letting me move how I want but gently supporting and squeezing. Keeping one hand on his thigh and the other on his shoulder, it's almost like a dance but so much more than that.

If I thought I really admired him, he was trying to convey how much he admired me with his lips. His tongue works ardently with his teeth, and I am a ship lost at sea, content to disappear among the waves.

Resting my head against his shoulder, I kiss his skin as I ride out my own orgasm, and then I move with a bit more effort for his. I know it happens when his whole body flinches in the chair and his nails dig into my skin.

Smiling when I kiss him, I brush my fingers through his hair. "You're the best kind of distraction."

"Glad to be of service," he says. "But seriously, those sketches are amazing."

"Thanks, prince," I say. "Just drawing what I see, but I do feel odd now as it's like you've read my diary."

"What?"

"I sketch instead of write," I say. "Did you not notice those drawings of Do or Care or the Arch? Or were you too vain and simply looked at yourself?"

Chris blushes as he runs his hands along my back. "Sorry."

"It's okay," I say. "That was the first book I had on hand and I'd have stopped you if it were really a problem. Plus, that was a fun little interlude."

"Fun indeed," he says, moving his hands to my cheeks and hair. "You're such a delicate thing, little Clemmie. Like my own little fairy."

"Just don't call me fairy godmother and we'll be all right," I say. I kiss him again. “Unless my brain is muddled because of the sex, I think you promised me clam chowder."

"I did! Just like Ma makes."

"I really don't want to get up though."

"I don't have to do anything right this second."

"Good man," I say, tossing my arms around his neck.

Later that evening, we've both managed to pull on some form of pajamas. Chris is doing something in the Dutch oven that smells amazing, and I know he made bacon. The bodice of the dress is finished except for all the beadwork, and I have two layers of the skirt sewn together. There will be eight more by the time I’m finished. I decided to make this one tea length which will be a bit of fun with the others.

I feel giddy every time I look up from my machine to see him chopping onions with a towel draped over his shoulder, singing with the songs he knows. I have an inkling he's doing the same to me while I'm bent over my machine.

Queen Bey blasts through my speakers and I take it as a sign I need another break. Chris just looks so cute in the kitchen, his hair sprouting every direction from having my fingers in it. Whatever he's doing to make the chowder still smells really good and there's a little cloud of steam rising from the pot.

I bounce my hip against his and he laughs. "I can see the stars all the way from here. Can't you see the glow on the window pane?"

"The lady knows Beyoncé."

"Of course the lady knows Beyoncé," I say. "The lady has not lived under a rock." Without missing another beat, I grab a spatula from the jar on the counter. Makeshift microphone in hand, I continue, "Now everybody asks me why I'm smiling from ear to ear."

Chris chuckles as he moves the pan to another burner. He turns and grabs my hip, moving with me. Kissing me soundly, I follow his lead until the chorus hits.

"Baby, it's you! You're the one I love!"

He doubles over laughing but I'll not be disturbed during my solo.

"You're the one I need!"

"I love Beyoncé!" Care yells, and I whip around to see her and Dixon standing by the door. We had been so distracted by 'Love On Top' and each other we hadn't heard the key slide in the latch.

"Oh hey!" I say. "I was just serenading my prince while he makes me delicious clam chowder."

"Awe," Care says, looking at the two of us. She drops her bag and runs to me, her arms wide for a hug. "You two fondued! And it must have been good if you're singing Beyoncé!"

"What?" Chris asks, scratching his neck.

"You know," Care says, widening her eyes, "fondued. Like Cap and Peggy."

"Unfortunately it is my belief they never got the chance," Chris says. "How did you know?"

"Because I know my Clemmie," she says, "but you're both glowing so I think it wasn't bad."

Chris cocks his eyebrow. No need to tell them we contaminated the chair and the couch too. I'm sure Dixon and Care have actually carried out a number or two in the kitchen.

"Beyoncé," Dixon says, "the queen of our hearts and no doubt on both our girls' sexy playlists."

"She obviously knows how to get it done," Care says thoughtfully. "Anyway, we didn't mean to interrupt your together time, but I forgot my airbrush kit which I'll need tomorrow. We were on our way to dinner but thought it best to come now."

"No worries," I say. "We were just doing things before I felt the need to sing."

"I understand that," Care says. "Sometimes you just can't fight the melody."

"Dinner?" Chris asks. "I've got clam chowder going if you just want to stay here. You're welcome to and I don't want to kick you out of your own apartment."

"You're not," Dixon says. "We really should utilize mine more often. I think Care just finds this one more comfortable."

"All of your furniture was itchy," Care says. "Do you remember that red couch? I had a rash after the first time I was there. But yes, we'll stay for dinner if you don't mind and have extras. And don't keep us around if we're bothering the sexy times. We don't want to do that."

"You're not," Chris says. "Not at the moment anyway."

That makes me blush but Care just giggles.

"Oh! I haven't even told you yet! Kleinfeld wants me!"

"Clem, that's amazing! Congrats! So what? When are we going to New York?"

“Two weeks."

“I’ll be in New York in two weeks,” Chris says.

“We’ll all be in New York in two weeks!” I say. “We’ll have the best time."

“Kleinfeld,” she says. “That’s fantastic."

I slip my arms around Chris’s waist and squeeze his middle. He drops his arm around me and rubs my elbow.

“You two are so cute,” Care says. “So cute. Like something out of a damn JC Penney catalog."

Chris smiles down at me. “Go on, sit. I’ll have this ready in about twenty minutes."

“Oh, let me clean off the table!” I say.

“We’ll just eat around the TV,” Care says. “No need for us to be formal. What’s the dress look like?"

Dixon flops onto the couch while Care follows me to the table. It’s hard not to look at Chris every now and then and smile. It’s hard to explain how I feel when I’m with him, but the serenity and felicity float through my entire being. He’s the sun, glowing, warm and light, and I blossom better with him.

 

"Don't you just love New York?" Care asks, twirling on the sidewalk so her skirt catches the winter breeze. "All the naysayers be damned! There is something about New York."

I know it's true. New York is the place where life happens. Of course life happens everywhere around the world, but there is something special about New York.

"It's like every block holds a promise," I say. The cab took us straight to Kleinfeld when Harrison landed the plane, and we dropped off the dresses until the morning.

Now we are going to Chris's apartment but opted to walk because it is simply New York.

I shift my bag on my shoulder and look up at Chris's building — most of the cast moved into this space.

"It's gorgeous, isn't it?" Care says, following my lead. "Just the sort of a place a princess like you deserves."

I laugh, looking at the pristine grey building. There are windows everywhere and flags hang from the sides.

"Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come inside?"

Chris stands just outside the door with a smile on his face. I squeal as I run to him and jump into his arms. He kisses my cheek as he holds me, and I float in his embrace.

"Hi, prince," I say before kissing him.

"Button," he says. "Come on, let's get inside."

The lobby of his apartment building is immaculate with swanky chandeliers and oversized velvet furniture.

"It's a little much," Chris says, "but it's the one the company picked and you know I'm not picky."

"It's great," Care says. "It's beautiful."

I push the elevator button and lean against my boyfriend. He's solid and warm yet soft and comforting at the same time. He kisses the top of my head and smiles at me.

"So what time will your parents be here?"

"A couple of hours," I say. "Harrison dropped us off and was flying down to get them. Are you nervous?"

Chris laughs as we step into the elevator. "Not really, should I be?"

"Nope," I say. "They're bringing The Tobes with them so he's always a good buffer."

"May I take you all to dinner?"

"Of course," I say, "that would be wonderful."

Once the elevator door opens, we step off into a beige hallway with big windows at either end.

“It’s this one,” he says, leading us to the third door. “Anne is just there, and Sandra will be above me."

“Really?” Care asks. “Anne Hathaway could be on the other side of this wall right now?"

“Yes."

“I loved her in The Princess Diaries! Mia Thermopiles sings the songs of my people!"

“She’s moved in, too,” he says. “Maybe I’ll be able to introduce you to her sometime soon."

“That would be amazing!”

Chris and I both chuckle as he pushes open the door. “Welcome to my temporary home."

I can tell the whole place was furnished because nothing looks like him. Everything is square and modern, decorated with tinges of red. I know he favors an older asthetic and cool colors. Still, it's the epitome of classy New York living, and he's already managed to make the place smell of him.

"This is your room, Care," he says, leading us to the front room. He places her bag on the bench at the foot of the bed. "Our room is at the other end of this hall. Yell if you need anything."

"Of course," she nods, pressing her face against the wall. "Is Anne's apartment on the other side?"

"No," Chris says, "that's an old man who keeps to himself."

"Damn."

"Come on," I say, pulling on his collar. "I want to see this master suite."

Chris grins.

"Have fun, you two!” Care says as she runs to the peep hole, probably scouting for celebrities.

I push the barn door open and giggle, throwing myself on the foot of the bed. It’s round and ridiculous but completely amazing.

“I can’t believe this is your bed!"

He laughs as he drops my bag and falls next to me. “It is a little silly, I’ll admit, but I’ve come to like it. It also rotates so you can be extremely lazy if you’d rather look out the window, at the TV, into the bathroom or across the living room."

“Like, how are there sheets for it?” I ask, running my hand over the smooth satin of the comforter.

“Custom,” he says. “I got to pick the color."

“Navy,” I say, “real original, Captain America."

I prop up on my elbows and look at him, and he smiles. “I’m really glad you’re here."

“Me too,” I say. “I’m excited for you to meet my parents. You’ll love them."

“I hope they love me,” he says.

“They will,” I say. “I love you so they will too."

“Yeah?"

“Definitely. Are you feeling any stress?"

“No. Should I be?"

“Nope,” I say, sliding my hand beneath his shirt. “I just thought if you were feeling stressed, we could maybe work off some of that."

“Oh,” Chris says. “I am feeling very stressed, so incredibly stressed. Let me close the door and we’ll talk about just how stressed I am."

 

The car pulls up to the hotel and I grin. Two redheads and a graying woman sit in the lobby waiting patiently. I spring from the car as they notice and stand.

"Hey, little pea!" Dad says, catching me in his arms. He kisses my cheek before handing me off to Mom who hugs me.

"Mom, Dad, you know Care," I say, taking Chris's hand. "And this is Chris."

"Clemmie!" Mom yells, shouting happily. She pulls Chris in for a hug and laughs. "You are so handsome. I mean, I knew you were good looking on screen but to behold you in person — wooo, Clemmie!"

“Thank you,” Chris says. “My mother said the same thing about Clemmie."

“My mother is Emily and Dad is John,” I say. “And of course that’s Tobias."

“Hey man,” Chris says as he and Tobias shake hands. “I’d like to take everyone to dinner."

“That would be splendid,” Mom says. “Can I sit next to you?"

"Of course," Chris laughs. "It would be my honor."

My mother, always the enthusiast. We pile back into the car and I end up sandwiched between my mother and Chris.

"So when do we get to see these dresses?" She asks, petting my hand.

"Tomorrow," I say. "I figured you and Care would come to Kleinfeld with me while Dad and Tobias go to one of the science museums."

"You're going to a science museum? Can I go too?" Chris looks around excitedly, his eyes wide. I take his hand and kiss his knuckles because it is one of the most adorable things I've ever seen.

"Yeah," Dad says, "of course. It'd be nice to get to know you when Clemmie isn't there to talk you up."

Dad isn't tall by any means and he's got years on Chris, but he can definitely be intimidating. He's still muscular and his red hair makes him look younger than he is, yet I know he'll actually adore Chris.

"They like you almost as much as I do, Mr. Evans," I say, falling rather ungracefully onto the bed. "Mom has already texted me about how much we compliment each other and how she likes your bum."

"Your mother checked out my ass?"

"Sure," I say, "she's a lady inspecting her daughter's prospects, I suppose."

He laughs as I roll onto his chest. I trace his nose with the tip of my finger while he slides his arms around my back.

"Your dad is so smart," he says, "like, so smart, but he's not really an asshole about it. It really would be cool to visit his lab someday."

"You'll have to do that then," I say. "He loves showing it to people and explaining how his different nanobots work. And I'm glad you don't think he's an asshole about it. You have no idea what it was like growing up with discussion of splines and dead man switches over the dinner table."

"At least you had your whole family around the dinner table."

"Maybe," I say. "It wasn't always a happy thing though."

"What do you mean?" he asks, running his hand along my spine.

"Mom had an affair. I was fifteen, Tobes was still a toddler, and I'm not sure Oz has completely forgiven her yet."

"Your mom cheated on your dad?"

"You don't hear about it often, do you? The woman cheating on the man, but she did it and it was really hard for six months after we all found out, but for Mom to be the free spirit, Dad is the lover. So they go to counseling still and make time for each other, something that wasn't happening at the time."

"It's been eleven years and they still go to counseling?"

"Indeed," I say. "It's become their date night, as it were. They go to their counselor's office and then to dinner. Sweet in a weird way, isn't it?"

Chris laughs and nibbles on the tip of my finger tip. "What about you? Do you just want one person for the rest of your life?"

"Yes," I answer. "I intend to just have one. I think seeing what happened with my parents really made me evaluate what I wanted and if I can handle that. My dad is really good at forgiveness and my mom is really good at letting go, and I got a little of both from them."

Chris scoffs. "Please, Clem. A little? You're the queen of letting things go. I've watched you brush stuff off that most people would stew over for days."

"There's too much bad in the world to not focus on the good," I say, "but you make the good better."

He smiles at me. "You say that now."

"I know," I say. "I know we're still in the easy part of the relationship. I know we haven’t fought yet or haven’t really endured anything difficult together, but I feel like we can make it. I want to try, anyway."

"Me too," he says. "It's not easy living my life. There will be cameras. Any relationship I enter is public knowledge. It could be a lot. We already had one incident, there will be more. Say we do this thing and we're together for a long time but need counseling — everyone will know that. I know we've talked about it before, but it could be really hard."

“I know,” I say, “but I don’t mind. Being with you is better than any of that."

“You know just what to say,” he says.

“And I mean every word of it,” I say. “You sure you don’t mind going with Dad and Tobes to the museum?"

“Nah,” Chris says, “I actually love stuff like that and I wouldn’t want to be in the way of your meeting."

“You wouldn’t be in the way,” I say, “but I know Dad will enjoy having you there, especially since you’re into all that. Harrison is the only child with a thought for mechanics so it’ll be fun for Dad to have a nerd around."

“You’re calling me a nerd?” Chris asks, rolling us over so he’s on top.

“I am,” I say. "What are you going to do about it?"

“I can think of a few things,” he mumbles with my bottom lip between his teeth.

 

Mom laughs as she passes me a fitting clip. I have two models wearing my ten dresses for Barb and some of the other Kleinfeld workers. We’ve shown four so far with pleasant reviews and this particular dress hugs the model in all the right ways.

“I just can’t get over Chris, Clemmie!” Mom says, running her fingers through her hair. She’s recently cut it to a pixie cut and hasn’t adjusted yet.

“What does that even mean?"

“He’s just perfect,” she says, “in every way."

“My mother just met my boyfriend for the first time last night,” I say to the model. She laughs and nods.

“Well, it seems like it’s going well."

“You have no idea,” Mom says. “He’s successful, handsome and he really loves my Clemmie."

“He does,” Care says. “They’re very good together."

“Thanks,” I say, pinching the fabric in place for the last clip. The model nods to herself in the mirror was she rests her hands on her hips.

“This is my favorite,” she says. “It’s really beautiful."

“Thank you,” I say. “Let’s hope Barb is pleased."

Barb is in fact extremely pleased with all ten of my dresses. I’m certain it helps when a bride shopping for the perfect piece for her big day spies one of mine and wants to buy it. I practically fall over when Barb tells me there's a place for my designs at Kleinfeld, and even more so when she says they can sell them within the month.

We're meeting the boys back at Chris's apartment, and I spring into his arms when he opens the door.

"They want me," I whisper, feeling the warmth of his skin on my face. He easily caught me and holds me now around him. "They want me."

"Of course they do," he says, kissing the side of my face. "Your designs are amazing."

"So it's good news?" Dad asks from behind Chris.

"It's very good news," I say. "Your daughter's dresses will soon be available to the public within the month."

"Little pea! Congratulations!" Dad says, hugging me awkwardly from Chris's side. He hums as he steps back and squints. "This is one of those moments when you realize your child doesn't need you anymore, isn't it?"

“Oh, daddy, I will always need you!” I say, leaving Chris to hug my father. “I just saw Chris first."

“I get it,” Dad says. “Given the choice between me and him, I’d probably go for him too."

“What’s happening?” Tobias asks, skidding across the kitchen floor.

“My dresses sold! I’m going to be available on a much bigger market,” I say.

“Cool,” he says. “Can you make me a costume for school?"

“What kind of costume?"

“William Howard Taft."

“Sweetheart, I’m afraid you’re far too skinny to pull off William Howard Taft, but I will do my best. Do you want him to be chunky?"

“Yes! Can you do that foam again?"

“Of course,” I say. “When do you need it?"

“Three weeks,” he answers.

“You’ll have it in one,” I say.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Back to Clemmie!” Mom claps her hands together. “Oh John! You should have seen her. They were completely taken with the designs and she handled herself so professionally."

“I know,” Care says, “even when Emily kept going on about Chris, our Clemmie just locked it up."

“We’re not really known publicly yet,” I say, “I didn’t know if I should really be talking about it like that. Like, we’ve been seen together but nobody knows who I am."

“They’ll know soon enough,” Chris says, taking my hand. “I was going to ask you at dinner, but I’m presenting at the Oscars again this year and was wondering if you would be my date."

“Are you serious?"

Chris nods and runs his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You don’t want to take your mom or Tara or Scott or somebody?"

“I want to take you."

“Yes, of course! Oh my gosh! I think I have a wedding the night before but I can fly out Sunday morning, right?"

“Of course,” he says.

“I would love that,” I say. “I would really love that."

“Great,” Chris says. “I will have the arrangements made and we’ll have a wonderful time."

“Chris! We’re going to the Oscars!"

"And you're going to be in Kleinfeld."

"And the parents approve of the boyfriend," Dad says. "Does the boyfriend approve of the parents?"

"The boyfriend loves the parents," Chris laughs, putting his hand in my mother's. She kisses his cheeks and laughs.

"The best friend loves everybody!" Care chimes, hugging my Dad and me at the same time.

"I love chicken nuggets!" Tobias says, throwing his arms in the air.

"You hungry, little brother?" I ask.

"Always," he says.

"Let's go celebrate!" Dad says. "You all pick a place to eat and I'm buying."

We bundle up because it's snowing again and we head out onto the street. Tobias pulls Chris ahead to ask him about Spider-Man while Mom and Care talk about artsy things, leaving me and Dad at the rear.

"He's a remarkable man, Clem," he says, patting my gloves hand in the crook of his elbow. I lean my head against his arm and smile.

"I know," I say. "He's pretty special."

"You know I asked him if he thought he was good enough for you."

"And?"

"He said no. He said he didn't think anybody would ever be good enough for you but that he would try his hardest to be the kind of man you deserved. I know he can provide for you and he seems very supportive."

"He is."

"I'm very happy for you, Clementine. I know parents aren't supposed to have favorites, and I don't, but if I did, well, I don't think I need to finish that thought."

I giggle. "You just like me because I was the first child to have your red hair."

"That is true," he laughs. "You've become such a lovely young woman, little pea, and I think your mother and I actually had very little to do with that. You always were our little flower."

"Daddy," I sigh, squeezing his arm. "You have to know I get that from you. I know children aren't supposed to have a favorite parent, but you know..."

Dad laughs and kisses the side of my head. It's that moment Chris turns around and smiles at me, his whole face glowing beneath the street lights reflecting the snow. A flake lands in his eyelashes and he blinks it away, his teeth glistening.

It's happened. Of all the people in the world, I've found my person, the one.

“Oh my,” Dad says softly, pulling me close. “He is so in love with you."


	9. Chapter 9

"Thank you so much," the bride says. "Everything you've shown me looks beautiful and I can't wait for the day."

"Of course," I say. "We've got the cake tasting next week and I'll call you if anything should change."

"Great," she says as I hold open the elevator. "You've done wonderfully, Clemmie."

I smile at her as she leaves, and the second elevator opens.

"Oh my God, Clem!" Care says, stepping off the elevator. "I'm so glad you're here."

"What's happened? Is everything all right?"

"You haven't seen it then, have you?"

"No," I say. "What is it?"

"Come on," she says, pulling me through the lobby and down the hall to my office. "You've been away from your computer?"

I nod. "I was with a client all morning. What's wrong?"

She flips into my chair and quickly googles Chris. The headline is huge and there are pictures.

  
_It's no secret the hot 'Captain America' star has been seeing a new lady, and_ Secrets _has all the details._  


  
_Chris Evans, 34, has been spotted in New York with the petite ginger woman several times, and_ Secrets _has learned her name is Clementine Rogers, 26, of North Carolina._  


_The two appear very fond of each other, and she seems sweet enough. However, a source close to the girl says this relationship is doomed._

_"She's an aspiring dress designer," the source says. “Her designs recently sold to Kleinfeld in New York, and she dislikes her current job of planning weddings. She's just using him to further her career and get her name out there. I have no doubt once she makes it — if she makes it — the relationship will end."_

_A close family friend of Chris seems to agree._

_"I grew up with Chris," says the friend, "and I know he's one of the sweetest, most vulnerable people. I would hate to see his heart broken again just because some woman wanted to get ahead in her career. He doesn't deserve that and she doesn't deserve him."_

_Whatever the case may be, we hope the actor guards his heart and sees the truth._

"What a load of shit!"

"I know," Care says, "and they have pictures."

“Of course they do,” I say. “Shit."

I dial Chris.

“Clemmie,” he says.

“You know it’s not true, right?"

“What?"

“You don’t know?"

“Know what?"

“Oh my God,” I breathe, running my hand over my forehead. “There’s an article online about us, and it’s not exactly kind about me. I didn’t want you to think it was true."

“That’s what you’re in a panic about?” He laughs on the other end. “Don’t pay attention to any of that stuff, okay? I’m so sorry they picked you out. Did it say anything in particular?"

“Well, I’ve been named, my job was included and some other stuff."

“Shit, Clem,” he says. “I am so sorry. I’m so sorry this has come out and they found you — are you okay?"

“I’m fine!” I answer. “Relieved, really. I was terrified you would read it and start to second-guess me or us or anything."

“No, Clem,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. According to those kind of sites, I was sleeping with Sandy one night and making out with Nina Dobrev the next day on the subway. It’s complete and utter trash."

“Well, good,” I say. “Can you answer me this?"

“Sure."

“When they have a source, do you think there is an actual person, or are they making that up?"

“Both,” Chris says. “It sucks and I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s any use in trying to figure out who it is."

The phone on my desk rings, making both Care and I jump with a start. “Hold on a sec."

“Clementine Rogers of Morgenstern Weddings,” I say, “how may I help you?"

“Mrs. Morganstern would like to see you in her office immediately,” Rose, Mrs. Morganstern’s assistant, says. “And I mean immediately."

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll be right there."

I hang up the phone and slouch against my desk. “Shit."

“What is it?” Care and Chris ask at the same time.

“Morganstern wants to see me now,” I say. “She’s seen it. I have to go."

“Call me when you get the chance, button,” he says. “We’ll talk more and I love you."

“Love you,” I say. “Bye."

“Do you want me to stick around?” Care asks.

“No,” I say. “If I get fired, I might like you not to be here."

"You won’t get fired,” she says. “I’ll see you later. I love you, too."

I smile at her as we leave my office. “Thanks, Care."

She nods before heading back into the lobby. I knock lightly on Mrs. Morganstern’s door after receiving the go-ahead from Rose. She looks nervously after me as I step inside.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Morganstern,” I say.

“Clementine Rogers,” she says, “I don’t know whether to berate you or thank you. Since that article was posted online this morning, we’ve had four new brides wanting you to plan their weddings."

“What?"

“Apparently people are interested in knowing you,” she says, “but I do have a question."

“Yes, ma’am?"

“Are you unhappy planning weddings?"

“Not at all,” I say, “I love being able to take someone’s big day and make it special. It’s such a beautiful thing."

“Good,” she says. “I’m giving all of your March weddings to Tina and Chip, except for two."

At least I still have my job.

“I want you to pick five cities you think we could do some good in, find office spaces and contacts in those cities and give me a report March 31st. If you’re going to be head of the new division, this will be good practice for you. I like you, Clementine, and your personal life is of no concern of mine unless you’re being abused or mistreated, pregnant or engaged."

“Chris is not mistreating or abusing me,” I say. “No worries there."

“How did I not know he’s Captain America?"

“Never asked?"

“Clemmie,” she laughs, “I would like to meet him."

“Next time he’s in town,” I say, “I’ll have him come by."

“You’re doing well, Clemmie,” she says. “Don’t worry about what the other people say."

“Thanks,” I say. “I was worried you were upset."

“Not at all,” she says. “Congrats on the Kleinfeld sale, by the way."

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m excited to have that venue."

“Well, do you need anything from me?"

“Are there any cities you want me to look at in particular?"

“Not New York,” she says. “The market is saturated. Chicago and Detroit, definitely, maybe Cleveland and Pittsburg. Look at several and present me with five."

“Yes, ma’am.” I say. “Oh, I will also be attending The Academy Awards this year. I have a wedding the day before but don’t have anything the day of or the Monday after. Thought you ought to know."

“Clementine!” Mrs. Morganstern says, jumping out of her chair. “My goodness! Do have a good time. Make me proud."

“I’ll do my best. Is there anything else I can do?"

“No, thank you,” she says.

I nod as I leave and sigh with relief as I close the door behind me.

“Everything okay?” Rose asks, her eyes wide.

“Everything is fine,” I say. “No reason to be upset."

“Great,” she says. “I was worried for you. I didn’t know you were dating Chris Evans!"

“I am,” I say. “Guilty as charged."

“He’s so hot, Clemmie,” she says. “I mean, I’m sure he’s a lovely person too."

“He is,” I say. “I’m bringing him by the office next time he’s in town. Mrs. Morganstern wants to meet him."

Rose giggles and pulls me into a hug. “I’m glad everything is all right, Clem. You’re one of my favorites."

“Thanks, Rose,” I say. “I’ll just be getting back to my office now. They were all sure I was getting canned."

“I never thought that,” Rose says. “I knew you were fine."

I smile as I leave.

“Shall I bring you a box?” Chip asks, his arms folded smugly across his chest.

“If you would like,” I say. “I don’t know whatever for."

“You’re not fired?"

“Why would I be fired?"

"Because you’re unhappy here."

“Chip, I am far from unhappy here,” I say. “In fact I love my job. Actually, I would think if you cared as much as about yours as I do mine, you would be working on the McAllister-Dawson wedding instead of standing here badgering me."

“You know I got the McAllister-Dawson wedding?"

“Of course I know,” I say, “but you probably should know Betty is a real piece of work so you’ll want to be on top of your game."

“I’m always on top of my game."

“I know,” I say. “Is there anything else I can help you with? Do you need the phone numbers or anything?"

“No, I have everything under control."

“Great,” I say. “Have a nice day."

I sigh happily as I sink into my chair. The internet might hate me but my boss and boyfriend do not.

Connecting the call to Care on my cell phone, I wait as it rings. “It was Chip, the little shit."

“He was the one who told?"

“He was!” I say. “It had to be him. Nobody outside the office and my family knows about the Kleinfeld sale except for you. He also just assumed I’d been fired so it was totally him. That bastard."

“It must be weird to feel that threatened to have to leak a girl’s private life to a tabloid."

“Oh well,” I say. “Mrs. Morganstern didn’t care at all and is moving forward with a new office. It’s quite exciting."

“Well, congrats,” she says. “I’m glad you didn’t get fired for having a gorgeous lover."

“Me too,” I say. “You want to go out to dinner tonight? Just us?"

“That would be great,” Care says.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m going to call Chris back but I’ll see you soon."

“All right,” she says. “Love you, boo."

“Love you, too,” I say. The phone rings twice before Chris picks up. “Hey prince."

“You sound all right for someone who was worried about losing her job."

“That’s because I didn’t lose my job,” I say. “Morganstern was fine with it. In fact, she’s moving forward with expanding and has put me in charge of making connections and finding office spaces."

“Fantastic,” he says. “That’s great news."

“I know,” I say. “She wants to meet you."

“Awe, I’m flattered,” he laughs.

“Anyway, I’m still alive so how is your day?"

“Okay,” he says. “You know it’s been snowing here for days and I just really wish I was home. Or maybe if you were here."

“I wish I were there too,” I say. “I would love to be curled up in that big circular bed with you watching the snow fall."

“What's the weather like there?"

"Just cold and cloudy," I say. "Rain on Friday maybe, which my bride will love."

"She one of those that goes against superstition?"

"Actually, it's supposed to symbolize cleansing and fertility so if you're looking for babies, you want it to rain on your wedding day."

"So she's looking for babies?"

"Yes," I say. "Very much so."

"Well that's sweet," he says. "I love babies."

"I know," I say. "I happen to like that about you."

There's a brief silence between us, mostly because I'm thinking about a little boy with curly red hair, his blue eyes and hundreds of freckles, and something tells me Chris is thinkIng of a little girl with red curls, brown eyes and pale skin. I shake the thought before I take it too far.

"Um, anyway, this is totally off topic but I'm fixing to make reservations — every year, one of the older siblings takes Tobias for half of his spring break. This is supposed to be Oz's year, but they're going to Seattle to visit Liv's parents and Tobias doesn't want to do that. Madge has to run the bakery so I volunteered to take him this time. It's a surprise to him, but we're going to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Florida. What are you doing the third week of March and would you like to go?"

"That sounds great! I haven't been there yet. I should be finished filming then, but let me check with Winston to make sure I don't have any prior engagements. Does Tobias like Harry Potter?"

"Of course," I say. "He's never related to a character more than Ron. It's cute, and he hasn't been to the park yet."

"I'll call you tonight with a yes or no," he says. "Ah, Florida. What I wouldn't give to be in Florida right now."

"Clear your schedule and come with me," I say. "I'm getting a suite with two rooms so Tobias and his friend get one room and I get the other. It could be really nice if you were to join me."

"Would you wear a bikini?"

"Maybe," I answer. "I'm not sure it'll be hot enough yet for a bikini."

"Rats," he murmurs. "I was hoping you would be scantily clad in public and I could touch you openly."

“Well, I’ll pick out something to wear just for you to at the hotel if you go."

“For that,” he says, “I’ll go. Are you sure you’re all right with whatever was printed on that web site? I don’t want you to be bothered by it."

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” I say. “I just didn’t want you to think less of me or something."

“What’d it say?"

“That I’m only dating you to further my career as a designer,” I say.

“Well, we both know that’s not true,” he says, “so ignore them. I had nothing to do with your Kleinfeld gig. I’m not worried about us at all."

“Me either,” I say.

“You may want to look at things you’ve posted on social media,” he says. “They'll look for anything to use against you. How do Oz and August feel about pictures of their children on Instagram? That could be a problem, too. This is just the beginning of the hard part we were talking about, Clem. Are you sure this is what you want?"

I rub my forehead. “Well, no. I don’t want this, but you don’t either. I know that. I do however want you, and if this is something we have to deal with, we will. I just hate feeling like a villain when I know I’m not one."

“Clem, I’m so sorry,” he says, and I know he’s probably hunched over and rubbing his eyes on the other end of the phone. “I feel like I should tell you my fans may not be any kinder than the press, especially if they believe you’re using me."

I take a deep breath. “Well, we’ll muddle through this somehow."

“Exactly,” he says. “If you need me or you need to talk about anything, give me a call."

“Will do, prince. What do you have on the agenda today?"

“Meeting with Gary Marshall in a bit,” he says. “And tomorrow I have a consult with the stylist."

“Ooh, new clothes,” I say. “That will be fun. You should aim for as many blues as they’ll let you have. It makes your eyes pop."

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “You sure you’re okay?"

“I'll be fine,” I say. “Wish you were here, but I’ll be fine. Let me know about Florida. I’ve already talked Harrison into flying us but he’s not staying because he’s booked some other trips."

“All right,” he says, “Count me in at the moment but I'll check back."

"Sounds good," I say. "I love you."

"I know," he says. "Call you later."

I drop my phone on my desk and close out of the tabloid, telling myself it is far better to ignore the comments. This is not an actual reflection of me or my relationship with Chris.

I do not have it under control. I thought I did, but I am wrong.

"Dammit!" I cry, squeezing the finger I've stabbed for the second time with a needle in five minutes.

"Clem," Care says gently, "maybe it's time you take a break."

Falling back in my chair, I sigh. I stayed up until four this morning finishing Tobias's William Howard Taft costume and had to buy a box at the post office there was so much padding. I met with three brides before lunch and spent the afternoon on the phone with realtors in Chicago and Philadelphia. Alexandra, the star of the Emilia Wright-Rathbone movies asked me to make her dress for the Oscars, and I couldn't refuse. It's a great opportunity and she loved the design.

My online accounts have become all business with little pleasure. I received multiple threats and the IT guy had to install extra firewalls on my computer to keep my email filtered since it's common knowledge on the Internet. Pictures on Instagram which used to have nice and funny comments now are bombarded with foul words and the gun emoji. I've told myself it's easier to just sit it out and wait for this to pass than to completely eradicate my life online.

I knew Chris had fans but I didn't know they were so passionate about his personal life.

"Clem," Care says, "let's get dressed up a little and go to that wine bar. Huh? Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Yeah," I agree. "Let's do that."

Half an hour later, we sit on high stools and the bartender slides my first glass in front of me. It's a red and it's delicious, and I feel better after one sip. We order fondue and eat slowly while sipping our wine. Care is telling me about her gig at the art gallery this weekend when she looks over her shoulder and smiles. Turning around in my chair, I see a huge bouquet of flowers coming towards me.

“Clemmie Rogers, I heard you were feeling down!” Scott yells, lowering the flowers and he’s smiling behind them. I hop down from my stool to hug him and he holds me tightly. “I know I’m not the Evans you want to see but as my brother is currently kissing Sandra Bullock, I've come in his place."

I've never had a problem with Chris's career or his kissing other women because of it, but hearing it now is like the dam breaking. I've kept everything together fairly well until this moment, but the sob wretches through my body and out of my mouth.

"So not the right thing to say, Scott!" Care yells, smacking his arm. He frowns at her before cradling me.

"I am such an asshole, Clem! I didn't even think about it. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I say, wiping the tear from my cheeks so as not to make a scene. "I just hadn't really thought about him being with her as the reason he's not with me — and not that I need him to be with me, it's just better when he is — but this part of it has not been fun. I'm not expecting all sunshine and daffodils but I was definitely not expecting death threats. What have I done to warrant death threats? When was loving someone a crime?"

"Oh, Clem, it's not," Scott says, rubbing my arms. "None of this is your fault. This will all blow over, especially when it's apparent how crazy he is about you. I'm so sorry, Clem. I didn't know it was this bad. Chris didn't say anything about death threats."

"Because I didn't tell him," I say.  "I didn't want to worry him with something stupid like that. He feels so bad about everything else, I didn't want to put this on him too."

Scott brushes my hair with his fingers and sighs. "This will all be fine. Do you believe me?"

"I don't have any other choice, do I?” I say, rubbing my cheek. “Anyway, you’re here now. You want some wine?"

“Yes, girl! I would love some wine. Let’s sit and feel better about our lives."

We stay for a couple of hours, eating cheesecake and enjoying just a few glasses.

“Where are you staying?” I ask Scott as we step onto the sidewalk and I open my umbrella.

"I was just going to get a room nearby," Scott says. "I'm hoping to bother you for a few days."

I laugh. "Just stay with us then. We've got a comfortable couch or you can hog half my bed and make your brother jealous."

"Ha! He'll love that. He can sleep under Sandra Bullock and I'll sleep on the other side of the mattress."

“Drop it with the Sandra references, man!” Care says, whacking his arm with her purse. “It’s really not funny."

“Gee, Clemmie,” Scott says, looping my arm through his. “Why is your best friend so mean?"

“She’s just protective,” I answer, locking my other elbow with hers. “You know she’s a black belt? So stay away from her."

“I can kick you so hard in the balls your mother will feel it,” Care says, tilting her head proudly. Scott grimaces next me.

“All right,” he says, “no more talk of Sandy. Although if you must know, they tried it once and decided it didn’t work. You have nothing to worry about."

“Not helping,” I say. “Wasn’t this visit supposed to make me feel better?"

“Yes!” Scott says. “Yes, it is! In fact, I’m accompanying you to work tomorrow, and then I’m taking you both out to dinner and you can bring a guest, Care, if you would like. I know you’ve got a wedding Saturday, Clem, so I’m leaving Tuesday but I have booked the spa for the entire day Monday. So you can feel pampered and wonderful."

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.

“Don’t tell,” he giggles, “but I’m not paying for it. I mean, I am so happy to come and check on you because I love you and my brother loves you and you don’t deserve any of this shit, but Chris footed the bill."

“That’s sweet of him. I’ll have to call."

“He’d like that,” Scott says. “He gets all goofy when he’s on the phone with you."

“Ugh, you should see her,” Care mutters, “lights up like that big-ass tree in New York."

“Says the girl who bought her boyfriend’s cologne before they were even officially together so she could spray it on the extra pillow."

Care squeezes my arm. “It smelled really good. You should know — your boyfriend is the poster child for Gucci Guilty."

“Hmmm,” I hum, “he is, and he wears it very well."

Scott chuckles, taking the handle of the umbrella from me. “You’re cute, Clemmie."

“Thanks."

After a brisk walk with Do and showers, Scott climbs onto the bed with Dorota stretched out in between us.

“So, Clem,” Scott says. “I’m really worried about you. I know you’re really good about handling things and letting things go and sticking up for yourself, but you don’t have to be alone in this. So tell me everything."

“You’re just going to tell Chris everything so why would I tell you?"

“Do you know Chris was the last of my siblings I came out to? I don’t tell him everything."

“Well, if you promise. I don’t want him to feel guilty for this."

“Scout’s honor,” Scott says.

“It’s hard,” I say. “I knew it would be. I feel like I can’t complain because I knew this could happen. Chris is a very likable guy with a great fan base of loyal people, and I’m sure 98% of them are great, but the two percent are just awful."

“Can you show me?"

I nod, pulling up my computer. We go through the emails I’ve received and some of the more harsh Twitter, Instagram and Facebook comments.

“I’ve had extra security installed on my work email, my assistant screens my emails containing the words ‘Chris’ and ‘Evans’ should I have a bride or groom with either of those names, the secretary opens all our mail anyway so she’s been trashing anything awful that might come in that, and I don’t really post anything personal anymore. My lawyer has copies of the threats and user information should something happen, but she says there’s no legal action to take since everything has been online at this point."

“You’ve been talking to a lawyer?"

“Yes,” I say. “She’s been really helpful with what I can and can’t do regarding this and my privacy. I think everything would be better if that stupid article hadn’t said I was just using him."

“Clemmie, these threats are really terrible,” he says, leafing through the papers.

“The worst ones were the same girl,” I say. “She’s been blocked on every outlet and the IT guy ran some program that will pick out any name similar to hers to be approved of before anything comes through."

“Well, that sounds nice,” he says. “It’s good to know you’ve got all this protection."

“It helps,” I say. “I’m just glad neither Care or I is listed in the phone book and the office has security. That makes me feel better."

“These are probably empty threats,” he says, “but it’s good to take precautions. You know that’s why Chris didn’t want to be Cap in the first place — it would affect every aspect of his life."

“I know, that’s why I don’t want to tell him. He’ll bear that guilt all by himself and it’s not his fault."

“I know you don’t want to tell him,” Scott says, “but I think you should. The whole point of being in a relationship is having someone to share your aches and pains, your joys and triumphs. It's not Chris's fault, but it's certainly not yours either. Just think about it, okay?"

My phone buzzes.

"Speaking of," I say, connecting the call. I grab the sketchbook from my nightstand and toss it to Scott. "Help me pick a dress for the Oscars please. You know the ins and outs of these events better."

Scott's eyes glimmer and he grins, nodding emphatically.

"Hey prince."

"Button," he says. "I know I was supposed to tell you a few days ago, but I can join you in Orlando. I have the whole week free so make the plans whenever you need to."

"Perfect," I say. "I might have already put you on the reservations. I was thinking I'll fly to Boston and have Harrison picks us up there so then we can just swing by and pick up the boys on the way."

"That sounds great," he says. "How is my brother?"

"Turd-like," I answer. "Not really, he's helping me pick out a dress for the Oscars. Do you want to talk to him?"

"Nah, hit him once for me and I'll text him later."

I punch Scott's arm lightly. "That's from Chris."

Scott laughs and flips me off. "I think he's flipping you off."

"Ha," Chris says, "he knows I can take him. Anyway, how are you, button?"

"I'm okay," I say, "how are you?"

"Tired," he says. "It's harder to be charming and witty than one might think."

"If anyone could pull it off, it's you," I say. "Are you having fun?"

"Yeah," he says. "Are you?"

"Meh," I say. "Currently a bit overwhelmed at the moment."

"Clem, is there anything I can do?"

"No," I answer. "It's nice just to hear you talk and thanks for sending Scott."

"I hope he doesn't drive you crazy while he's there."

"He won't," I say. "Anyway, I guess we're ready for bed. I'll make plans for spring break and get back to you with all the final arrangements."

"Yeah, let me know how much I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything."

"Of course I do," he says. "I'll be happy to pay."

"Fine, the price is one really good, heartfelt hug next time I see you."

"Deal," he says. "I am going to pay for part of the trip though."

"Okay," I say. "I went ahead and got the meal plan too, just so the boys can get food should we separate."

"Sounds great," he says. "I don't know what that entails but I bet it's good."

"Yeah." Talking with Chris about nothing in particular is better than talking to anyone else about anything important.

"I love you, Clementine."

"I love you, Christopher Robert."

"Don't stress out."

"I already am, to be honest."

“Clem, what’s going on?"

“There’s just a lot happening,” I say. “It’ll be fine."

“You can tell me anything, you know?"

“I know,” I say. “I should go to sleep because apparently I’m taking your brother to work with me tomorrow."

“Gosh! Keep him away from that guy you don’t like."

“I will,” I say. “Hopefully he’s got enough sense to stay away on his own."

“Are you two talking about me?” Scott asks.

“Indeed,” I say. “We’re worried about you falling for this douchebag I work with."

“Oh, I stay away from the douchebags,” Scott says. “Don’t worry about that."

“Well, his name is Chip and he’s positively medieval."

“Yes, ma’am,” Scott says. “I will not go near Chip who is positively medieval."

“Good,” I say. “Well, I love you."

“Love you, too,” Scott and Chris say at the same time. I laugh and lean on Scott’s shoulder.

“Good night, nerds,” I say. I hear Chris laughing as I disconnect the call.

"I like this one a lot," Scott says, holding open my sketchbook. "I think it would be pretty and it's not too flashy but appropriate."

"I like that one," I say. "That's my print, too, so that's a good idea. It has pockets as well."

"Chris will just wear black so you'll look good together. I mean, you would look good together anyway, but this will be cute."

"Thanks," I say, "I'll get to work on it when I finish Alexandra's."

"Good," Scott says. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Nope," I say. "I'm glad you're here though."

"Thanks, Clem. I'm glad just to spend time with you." He reaches for my hand and rubs my finger with his thumb. "This will be okay."

"I know," I say, shifting under the covers and shifting on my pillow. I fall asleep thinking of Dorota and my Dorito.

 


	10. Chapter 10

_"You're not good enough for him," they shout, their eyes black like buttons. "You'll never be what he needs. He won’t be happy with you in the long term. You don’t deserve him."_

_They’re everywhere, the women looking harshly at me. They circle me and trap me, reaching out for me with fingers like claws. Their screams chill my skin as the one with a face so pale and vacant digs her talons into my face._

_"You will never be good enough."_

I sit up in bed and realize the body sleeping on the other side of Dorota is Scott. Sighing, I rub my eyes and find I’m covered in sweat. I unplug my phone, swing my robe around my body and quietly climb from bed. Dorota opens an eye but closes it after she sees it’s just me. My hand shakes as I twist the doorknob and I pull a blanket over my legs after I fall onto the couch.

I know Chris is asleep but I need to talk to him anyway. Dialing his number, I pray he hears his phone as I wait.

“Clemmie, is everything all right?"

“I know it’s late but I needed to talk to you,” I say. “Or I guess it’s early but I just couldn’t sleep and I know you have an early morning and a full day ahead but it just didn’t seem like it could wa—"

“Button.” I hear him yawn after he says it. “Don’t worry about me sleeping. I’m worried about you. What’s up?"

“The whole thing about you and me online — I know you told me not to read anything and I didn’t really, but you know they’ve found me on social media and they’re commenting on everything. They got my work email. There are death threats, Chris, some that sound really terrible."

He sighs very loudly. "Clemmie, how long has this been going on?"

"Since the story broke," I answer. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I don't want you feeling guilty or upset for me over this."

"Of course I'm upset," he says. "It makes me so angry that people who supposedly admire me and want me to have every happiness in the world have the audacity to threaten you, the person I love most who makes me the happiest I've ever been. That's really shitty, Clem. You're not sleeping?"

"I think it's just tonight." I pick up the golden elephant that sits on the coffee table. Care's aunt got it for her in China and it takes a place of pride in our living room. "I've been stressed. Work stress I can handle, and I can deal with my regular life stress. I know these threats are empty — I mean, how could someone actually get to me — but I've just thinking that someone has that much hate for me when they don't even know me."

"I don't know, Clem," he says. "If they know you as I know you, they wouldn't — they couldn't — think that. I'll talk to Evi tomorrow and see how she thinks we should handle it."

"I've been talking to my lawyer," I say. "I've got the legal aspect covered, but I don't know about the press part."

"That's what Evi is there for," Chris says. "You have a lawyer?"

"Yeah," I say. "She helped me with all the legal stuff with my dresses first and I sent her copies of everything so there was proof if anything happened. She's been keeping me informed of when I can file a restraining order if need be."

Chris curses under his breath.

"I'm sorry! I know I'm overreacting but this has never happened to me before."

"You're not overreacting, Clem. I didn't know it was this bad."

"I know and I should have told you. I didn't want you to worry."

"Clem, your problems are my problems, okay? I get that you're independent and I love that about you, but you don't have to deal with this kind of shit on your own. We will figure this out."

I sniffle, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. I'm nodding even though he can't see me.

"You still there?"

I hum, hoping that's good enough for him to follow it.

"Okay," he says, "can you email the stuff you have? Everything?"

"Yeah," I say, replacing the elephant in my lap with my laptop. "Can you tell me about your day?"

"Of course, button," he says before proceeding to tell me about filming in Times Square with Anne and Tim Meadows and how Sandra had everyone over for dinner. He oozes over little Louis for minutes which makes me smile. I've sent him all the files before I know it, and I don't look at them as they're transferred.

"God, that's graphic," he mutters suddenly. "Fuck, Clem. I feel so awful for all of this. If you want to end it n—"

"No! No. That is the last thing I want. That's why I didn't want to tell you. I don't blame you for any of this."

"Okay," he says, "I'll talk to Evi later. We'll figure out a way to make you feel comfortable. Has this affected your dresses or anything?"

“Thankfully, not yet," I say. "Sorry to call again like this."

"Don't," he says. "I like hearing from you any time, especially if you're upset. I mean, I don't like that you're upset, but I like being the one you talk to about it. But please, promise me you won't keep things like this from me. I'm never going to lie to you, you don't keep stuff you're worried about from me."

"Well, in that case," I say, "Scott helped me pick a dress for the Oscars. I'm worried I'll look too damn cute and steal all your thunder."

Chris chuckles and that makes me smile. "Clem, you're the greatest!"

"You know I'm just messing with you, right? I could never steal your thunder."

"You can and you will, I'm sure," he says. "And I like that you laugh your way to a better mood. I love you, Clementine, and I will tell you until you're tired of hearing it."

"That won't happen," I say through a yawn. "Can you go back to sleep?"

"You know the answer to that," he answers. "Can you go to sleep now?"

"I think so," I say. "Thanks for letting me call you."

"Of course, button," he says. "Thanks for telling me. I promise we'll get through this together. You're worth it."

"Nah, you're worth it," I say. "I love you."

"Love you, button," he says. "Get some rest."

"You, too," I say, hanging up the call. Scott's rolled over onto his back and Do's curled up next to his chest. Quietly crawling back under the covers, I feel like I can actually sleep now.

 

Scott is the perfect companion over the next few days. He makes me laugh, and it's fun to discover all the ways he and Chris are alike and all the ways they are different. They both eat big bacon burgers, but Chris likes mustard and Scott likes mayonnaise. Chris likes to sleep on his stomach and Scott sleeps on his back. My boyfriend and his brother are two sides of the same coin.

Evi advises the best thing to do now is to wait, so that’s what we do. The IT guy is able to install security on my personal email to ensure nobody can get to me there, and I develop a habit of checking my Instagram and Twitter feeds for only ten minutes a day. It helps, and it helps that Scott has become my champion. He posts pictures of us daily, full of praises. It feels silly but it seems to be working as people know Scott and Chris have a great relationship, and if Scott approves of me, I must be all right.

Now is not the time for that. Now is the time for pretty dresses and champagne. The plane lands smoothly in sunny Los Angeles, a warm and welcome sight from the twenty degree rain storm currently settled over St. Louis. Mrs. Morganstern discovered she knew my bride’s mother and decided to take the wedding herself since I had already done most of the work which put me in the air a day sooner than expected.

I took a window seat and waited until everybody else was off the plane so I could lug my big garment bag out of the overhead compartment. I packed a steamer in my bag so I could make sure my dress is in pristine condition, and I’m thrilled.

The car takes me to Alexandra’s hotel first, and she meets me in the little restaurant. We fit her dress once in St. Louis but decided it was a good idea to do it once more.

“Clemmie Rogers!” she says. “I am excited you’re here. You’re going to have so much fun. Do you know where you’re sitting?"

“Chris said he’s next to Chris Pratt,” I answer. "I think it's like stage right."

"I'm stage left but I'm sure I'll see you some time," she says. "Is that your dress?"

She pulls one of my suitcases from my hands as she looks at the garment bag.

"It is," I say. "Just finished it last night."

"Can I see it?"

"Yes," I say. "It's pretty simple. I figured I would keep it light since I'm just a guest."

Alexandra smiles as we step on the elevator.

"Simple and adorable!" She says when she sees my dress on the hangers. "I love this, Clem."

"I'm glad," I say. "I certainly don't want anybody thinking it looks bad."

"Has Chris seen it yet?"

"No," I answer. "We haven't actually seen each other in a few weeks."

"That's the shits."

"I know," I agree. "Anyway, can I see your dress?"

"Of course!"

The heels designed specifically for Alexandra are an inch shorter than we had anticipated so it's actually good we met. My phone rings just as I place the last pin in the hem.

"Hey button, how you doin'?"

"I'm doing fantastically! How are you?"

"Good, good," he says. "I just finished my meeting. Where are you?"

"I'm at Sunset Tower with Alexandra," I say. "Making some last minute fixes."

"Can I come up there?"

"Do you mind if Chris comes here?" I ask, standing up. I unzip the dress slowly. Alexandra smiles and shakes her head. "Come along. I shouldn't be but an hour."

"Cool," he says, "I'll head that way. How was your flight?"

"Good," I answer, sliding the dress down her body. It's red and form fitting, enhancing Alexandra’s 5'10" and perfectly curved body. She once told me her workout regimen and I was floored. I guess that's why a stair stepper sits in the corner of her hotel room. She pulls on a robe while I drape the dress over the table. Unzipping my smaller suitcase, I pull out the sewing machine. "How was your meeting?"

"Fine," he answers. "Anyway, I suppose you could be seeing right now if you weren't talking to me, so I'll let you go and see you in a few minutes."

"All right," I say, "love you."

"Love you."

Alexandra sits in the big arm chair next to mine in her robe and puts a glass in front of me. "You like Coke, right?"

"I do," I say. "Thanks."

She settles in with a glass of wine and tells me all about her date, the lead singer of some new band who just hit big. I finish the hem of her skirt just as there’s a knock on the door.

“You should get that,” Alexandra says, smiling proudly. I drape the gown across my chair after I stand and open the door.

“Button!"

“Hey, prince!” I kiss his lips as I stand on my toes. He grins when he sees me and slides his hand to mine.

“Hi, Alexandra,” Chris says, hugging her with one arm. “How’s it going?"

“Just finished the stitches on the hem,” I say. “Now it’s just time to get it on and see how it looks."

“Great,” Chris says, “do you mind if I hold down the couch?"

“Not at all,” Alexandra says. “Would you like to see your lady’s handiwork?"

“Of course!” He says, kissing the side of my head before taking to the sofa. I carry the dress to the bedroom of the suite and Alexandra steps into her heels. It only takes a few minutes to get her tucked into the perfect piece of clothing and she smiles when she sees herself.

“I shall be quite the talk of the town in this dress,” she says, resting her hands on her hips and practicing her poses.

"You would be the talk of the town anyway," I say, adjusting the ruffles of the train. The mermaid skirt is just what she wanted with billowing ruffles of stunning red.

“Are you ready, Mr. Evans?” Alexandra asks, turning around slowly the way we had discussed. When she’s on the carpet, she’ll have someone to adjust the train which I will have to do today.

“Yes!"

Alexandra whisks open the door and saunters proudly into the living room. “Can your girlfriend make a dress or can she makes a dress?"

I blush, having not expected to be the center of this conversation. Chris stands and circles her, a grin spread across his face. His arm drapes across my shoulders.

"It's beautiful," he says, "really beautiful. You've crafted a masterpiece, Clem, and you look gorgeous, Alexandra."

"Thanks," she says as he kisses her cheek. "Well, is there anything else you want to adjust, dear Clem?"

"No," I say, circling it one more time. "I am very pleased with this dress and how well you wear it."

"Thanks," Alexandra says, shaking her hips. "It's comfortable, too."

"Wonderful," I say. "I'm so glad you like it."

"Like it? I love it! It's tremendous!" She shakes her hips again. "It's beautiful. I don't want to take it off but I know I should."

"All right," I say. "Let's get it on the hanger and we'll go."

"Where are you staying?" she asks as I lift the train.

"My house tonight," Chris answers, "tomorrow I got a room here, actually."

"We're staying in a hotel tomorrow night?"

"Yes," Chris says. "I thought it would be fun."

"Cool," I say. "See you in a second."

Chris winks as I follow Alexandra to her bedroom.

"I hope I can be as happy as you are one day." Alexandra runs her fingers through her hair as I unzip her gown.

"You will be," I say. "It took me awhile. I've got years on you, you know."

She laughs. "Not that many. It's just the way he looks at you."

I smile at her in the mirror. "It'll happen for you when it happens. Fret not. But until then, date lots of people and wear fabulous dresses."

“That I will do,” she smirks.

 

Chris and I return to his house, a bungalow tucked in a neighborhood full of trees.

"This is beautiful," I say as he pulls into the long driveway. "Not your Boston home but still beautiful."

"Nothing beats Boston."

"You have yet to visit North Carolina."

He laughs as we get things out of the car and head inside. "Would you like a tour?"

"Maybe in a minute," I say, dropping my bags and grabbing his arm. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he says, wrapping his arms around me. He grins sappily as he looks at me, and I giggle as I stand on my toes to kiss him. We move together as his hands slide to my bum and he lifts me, dropping me on the counter. I feel desperate and needy as I slip my hands up under his shirt, wishing I were wearing a skirt rather than jeans — pants are so much more effort.

He hums my name as he kisses my neck and I push his sweater and shirt up. I hate breaking apart from him to discard the clothes but it's nice to see his chest at the same time. His skin is so warm beneath my palms. I lightly drag my nails across it and he hums like a cat, resting his hands on my ass.

"I missed kissing you," he says.

"Is that all?" I trace his happy trail with a finger and he groans. I laugh as he slides his hand down the front of my shirt, effectively loosening all of the pearl snaps, and pulls me to the edge of the counter with hands around my waist. I feel young and silly grinding against him like a high school girl too afraid to go all the way, but that's what makes it so fun.

"Hello!"

"Fuckin' Scott," Chris mutters, jerking away. "He knew you would be here so I told him to stop by so he could see his BFF."

"Oh yay! I love Scott!"

"So do I," Chris says, picking up his shirts from the tile, "but couldn't he have waited ten minutes?"

"Where are you guys?" Scott yells.

"Back here!" Chris helps me onto my feet and pulls his sweater over my head. I was rather hopeful he would leave it out sometime because I've been eyeing it — a soft black linen number with shell buttons and pockets. It feels even better on and smells just like him; I wonder if he would notice its disappearance.

"There you are!" Scott says happily, rounding the corner into the kitchen. It's my first time really even looking at Chris's Los Angeles house and it's beautiful. Everything is modern and shiny, and Chris has brought Boston with him by placing a lamp, clock and switch plate bearing the Patriots’ logo around the room. He’s a nerd but I love him.

“Little Clem!” Scott says, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me. “How are you?"

“Better,” I answer truthfully. "I'm happy to see you."

"I'm happy to see you," he says, booping my nose. He looks me over and grins cheekily. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Yes," Chris answers, "but you're here now so let's hang out."

"Great!" Scott cheers. "You have to know I wasn't going to leave anyway. I came to see the wonderful Clemmie and the meatball she's dating, so that's what I'm going to do." Chris swats Scott's arm but they both laugh. "I know you'll both be busy tomorrow so I wanted to hang out today."

“All right,” Chris says. “Well, I haven’t even been able to give her a tour yet, so let me grab her bags and we’ll go."

“I can help,” Scott says. “How many bags do you have?"

“Three with the garment bag,” I say. “The rolling one is my sewing machine to be fair."

“You flew cross country with a sewing machine in tow?"

“I’m a dressmaker. I have a dress on the carpet tomorrow. I have to make sure it’s perfect."

“And was it?"

“It is! It’s so perfect."

“It was really beautiful,” Chris says. “Clem is really good at this stuff."

“It is a gift,” I brag. “Anyway, we were touring the home?"

“Ah yes,” Chris says, “the home. The home is rather boring but I wish it were just the two of us here."

"Please," Scott says, "you two will have all the time in the world to do whatever it is you straight people do tonight after I leave."

"Brothers," I mumble, following Chris. It is nice to have Scott around since we became close when he stayed with me, and I'm glad to know he likes me with his brother. I know Chris would be hesitant in our relationship with Scott didn't approve.

Scott leaves after a couple of beers and Chris pulls me onto his lap.

"What do you think, button?"

"I think I like this house very much but I like this sweater more."

"It looks good on you."

"Thanks," I say. “Would you mind if I kept it? It's soft and smells good."

"Because it smells like me," he says, "But you can keep it if you let me take it off you right now."

"You can do that," I say, lifting my arms above my head. He smiles as he pulls it off and I shrug off my shirt.

“Just some time for us now,” he says, lifting me effortlessly.

 

It’s Oscar Sunday and I’m more excited than anything. Scott takes us to brunch and then invites himself over to see all the preparation. I don't mind his presence but I wish Chris and I could have taken a shower together first. There's something about a shower that relaxes me.

I think Chris wishes so too as his temperament with his brother gets shorter and shorter.

Scott sinks into the empty bathtub with a Coke and his phone while Chris trims his beard and I put on my makeup. I still wish Scott weren’t here but I know it would take much longer for us to get ready in his absence. Chris is just standing there in his boxer briefs, leaning over the sink, and I’m wearing my little bathrobe.

Fuckin’ Scott.

Chris gives me the bathroom when he’s all groomed and his hair is perfectly gelled and I finish my hair and pull on the pieces of my formal wear. The top is a black lace crop top and the bottom is a wide white skirt with black polkadots. It might look a little juvenile but I am young and just a guest, so I figured I might as well represent myself while Alexandra represents my clothes. Plus, it has pockets.

I step into my heels because the dress is ridiculously too long for me without them. They’re a nice pair of black satin pumps with a crystal embellishment on the toe. Now I’m a little nervous.

“You dressed, button?” Chris asks.

“Yes,” I answer, fixing my skirt. It’s big and poofy but perfectly tailored so it sits just right. Chris pushes open the door and grins.

“Wow."

“Good response,” I say, exhaling. “Is this all right?"

“Clemmie! You look fantastic!” Scott says, slipping past Chris. “You’ll turn every head there. It’s not too much but it’s not too little. I love the contrast and you’ve fit it perfectly. Chris, I am jealous you get to be on her arm."

I giggle. “Thank you, Scott."

He circles me. “Well, you two look fucking fantastic. I’m going to go now. I love you both and have so much fun tonight."

“Thank you,” I say, hugging him.

He hugs Chris. “I’ll see myself out."

Chris takes both my hands and I feel like I’m going to prom again. He’s devastatingly dashing in his perfect Armani suit, and I feel giddy.

“You really do look fantastic,” Chris says. “Really beautiful."

“Thanks,” I say. “You look very regal."

He laughs. “Thanks. You’re missing some accessories, yes?” I nod. “Well, I happen to have the remedy for that.” He pulls a little black box from the cabinet. “I got these on loan.” Popping open the lid, he grins.

“Oh my gosh! They’re beautiful,” I say, looking at the earrings. They’re white gold and pheasant feather shaped with diamonds, and I notice when I pick the left one up that the design is in two pieces; the top is five emeralds dotted with diamonds and the backing is all diamonds. “They’re dreamy, really. I can’t believe I get to wear these."

“You do,” he says, “and I take it this is the kind of dress that does not call for a necklace, right?"

“Right,” I say. “I have a diamond bracelet though."

“That will be beautiful,” he says. “Did you see my cufflinks?"

I laugh when he holds up his wrist and the green stained glass squares my mother had given him catch the light. “She’ll be so touched! You don’t have to wear those though."

“I like ‘em,” he says. “Remarkable yet low-key, and no one will say anything about them anyway. Fuck, you look great."

“Thanks,” I say. “I love these earrings."

“They look like they were made for you,” he says. “Is everything you need in the overnight bag?"

“Yes,” I say. “I think so."

“Perfect,” he says, “are you ready to go?"

“Yes,” I answer. “Yes, let’s do this."

“It’s going to be great,” he says. “No worries."

“Is the car here or how is this working?"

“I drive to the hotel, we check into our room, Evi meets us in the lobby with the car that will take us to the Oscars and bada-bing, bada-boom! We go to the Oscars!"

“Sounds fancy,” I say. “Did you know The Rams do that, too? Probably all professional teams really. All the players stay at a hotel the night before, they get on a bus which then takes them to the stadium where they meet their cars and their families, the player then drives his car to the main entrance of the stadium and they get out in front of all their fans. How silly is that?"

“Everything for appearances, my darling,” he says. “And you’re going to make quite the appearance."

“You’re golden,” I say, squeezing his hand. We do exactly as he says by going to the hotel, meeting Evi and we are then ushered into the back of a suburban among other cars. Even I have to admire the amount of coordination put into this thing. Evi is a nice middle-aged lady who clearly knows her business.

“Keep talk about your personal lives light and short,” she says as the car pulls out of the hotel parking lot. “You don’t owe them anything, even if they make it feel like you do. Keep your cool when the paparazzi are yelling at you — Clemmie, it helps to sing songs in your head, works for most of my clients — blink as often as possible. Smile and keep your mouth closed. Chris, don’t say anything about your departure from Cap. They don’t need any confirmation that that’s happening. The two of you here together will be big news in some circles, so keep that in mind. Be polite, and don’t make any of those comments you’re famous for making, Chris. Keep your cursing to a minimum if you must curse at all. I would advise against kissing on the red carpet, but that's a call you have to make. Don’t touch each other below the waist under any circumstances. Are we clear?"

I’ve given wedding parties similar speeches over the years but it’s odd being on the receiving end. “Yes, ma’am."

Chris smiles and nods.

“Listen,” she says, “if you two get through this, you’ll be in the clear. That damn reporter from Secrets is supposed to be here and is liable to ask questions about you if he can. I’ll try to steer you clear of him, but he might catch you anyway. Do you have your eyedrops, Chris?"

He nods and pulls them out of his pocket.

“Good,” she says. “If you need to take a break to use them, just let me know."

“Of course,” he says. “We’ll be fine."

“I know,” she says. “I just want this to be a fun thing and not a thing of tears. They can be really harsh, Clemmie."

“I’m pretty tough,” I say. “Death threats aside."

She rubs my hand like my mother would and goes over some questions Chris might be asked. I see similar cars like ours when we turn the corner, and a rush of butterflies flitters though my stomach. We wait in line for a few minutes and I focus on the way Chris’s hand feels in mine — warm, steady and strong, an anchor.

“We’re here,” Evi says when the driver puts the car in park and opens his door. “Good luck."

She climbs out one side and Chris brings my knuckles to his lips. “You ready?"

I nod. “Yes. Let’s do this."

He smiles before kissing me quickly. “I’ll help you out."

He climbs out swiftly and adjusts his suit.

“This is where you make them fall in love with you,” Evi says, snaking her head back around her door. “You can do it."

Chris offers me his hand as I scoot across the leather and he raises his eyebrows. I smile as I try to step as delicately as I can out of the car and suddenly there’s a woman adjusting the hem of my skirt.

“Goodness, thank you!” I say. Chris laughs when I mouth to him, “She came out of nowhere."

It’s so noisy outside the car. People are screaming and shouting in every direction, and Chris keeps holding onto my hand. I am very grateful.

"Okay," Evi says, "this is Rob. He's going to get us where we need to go. Chris, you stay behind Clemmie — we don't want to lose her. No offense, dear, but even in those heels, you're quite short."

"None taken."

Chris shifts his hand to my back as we weave through crowds of people and Chris waves at people shouting his name. Thank God walking in heels in a dress is second nature to me because it would be a nightmare trying to think about it in all this mess.

"Have you ever wondered what it's like to be an animal in the zoo?" Chris whispers in my ear as we weave through people. "You're about to find out."

"All right," Evi says. "Pictures first, interviews second. Chris will go alone and then we'll get you in there, Clemmie. Stay with me."

"How do I look?" Chris asks, pulling on his sleeves. I tweak his bow tie and smile.

"Like you're about to break a million hearts."

"Don't I know it," he says with a wink. Another woman points him to his first spot and Evi turns to tell some other person in all black how to spell my name, Clementine Rogers, fashion designer.

Sounds fancy.

I watch Chris as he stands cooly against the backdrop which is a slate gray color with the logo patterned perfectly across it. It should look really good behind the dresses, so whoever picked it did a good job. Chris also looks really good and confident, moving his head from left to right. I'll have to ask him what song he's singing in his head. His name is shouted again and again, and it must be a very off-putting thing to be treated as such.

I get to find out exactly how it is in a few minutes when Evi directs me forward. Chris smiles and holds out his arm.

"Crazy, isn't it?"

"I'm usually on the other side of all this so it's definitely something."

He laughs as I slip under his arm, and I feel his hand settle on my waist, one finger resting on the skin between the top and bottom of my dress. I let mine fall somewhere towards his hip and slip the other hand in the pocket of my skirt. I might as well show off all its attributes.

"What song are you singing?" I ask when we're directed a few feet down the carpet.

"I'll Cover You," he answers.

"Ooh, with a thousand sweet kisses! The original or reprise?"

"Original," he says, "can't be depressed on the carpet. You?"

"9 to 5," I answer. "Dolly gets me."

He laughs and flings his arm around my me. "Damn, I love you."

I rub his back just a little as I look up at him while he plays to the cameras.

"Nine to five, whoa, what a way to make a livin'," Chris sings under his breath.

"I'm so impressed you know it."

"My mother loves that movie," he says.

"It is a classic. Where else are you going to find Dolly, Jane and Lily in one movie?"

"True," he says. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a lark in the sun."

He smiles down at me and I squeeze his hip. It's the best sign of affection I'm supposed to give right now.

"One more," Evi says. "You're both doing great."

Chris leads me to the last spot and I adjust my skirts before settling into place. It's his name they're shouting and then we're off the picture part of the carpet.

"Whew," he says, wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead. "We made it through the worst of it."

"You did and you did well," Evi says. "A lot of the photographers were talking about you two. You looked very natural."

"It is natural," Chris says.

"Clemmie!" I whip around to see Alexandra rushing towards us. She hugs me tightly. "You look amazing! This dress is adorable!"

"Thanks," I say. "I love what you've done to your hair."

"The hair would be nothing without this fabulous dress. How are you liking things?"

"Things are great," I say. "This is such an experience."

"It is," she says. She sees my boyfriend and laughs, throwing her arms around him. "Oh Chris! I've been ignoring you! You look good too!"

"I get it," he laughs. "I'm not important when you two can talk shop."

"I just feel really beautiful in this dress," Alexandra says. "I wanted Clem to know."

"Well, thanks. I'm glad you're pleased."

"Pleased? I'm a freaking star in this dress. Totally on the top of the best dressed list and you did that!"

I laugh. "Thank you. You're the one wearing it and it was fun to make."

"Alexandra," her assistant says, "we need to be moving along."

"Of course," she says. "I'll see you inside?"

"Yes," I say. "Have fun!"

"You, too," Alexandra says as she's herded into the thick of things.

"All right," Evi says, tugging Chris's arm. "They're ready for you here. Clemmie, you stay with me."

I don't know whether to watch Chris or to stare at everything else happening around me. Evi listens intently to the interviews but I soon realize they're asking all the same questions so my time is better spent taking everything in. Amy Adams looks stunning in green and I'm not quite sure what Elizabeth Moss is wearing but I like it. I catch Alexandra talking to a reporter on a platform and she's glowing. Leslie Mann and Judd Apatow make the whole circle around them laugh, and Kerry Washington looks fabulous as always. I kind of hope I get to run into her.

"Dorito!"

Chris lights up at the word and turns around to see Rober Downey Jr. coming towards us. Robert cuts right between the interviewer and Chris and hugs Chris.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Robert says. "I'll wait. Love you, man!"

"Love you!" Chris says before turning back around.

"Oh my! You're the Clemmie!" Robert says, looking at me. He holds out his hand which I take. "Gosh, you're cute. Susan, isn't she cute? Hi, I'm Robert and this is my wife, Susan. Susan, this is Chris's girlfriend, Clemmie."

"Hi," I say, shaking her hand.

"Hello," she says. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well," I say. "How are you?"

"Great," she says.

"Enough small talk," Robert says. "Have you ever seen anything so crazy in your life?"

"Nothing quite this caliber," I say. "It's been an adventure."

"I bet," he says. "Chris isn't giving you too much trouble, I hope."

"No, not at all," I laugh. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Smart girl," Robert says. Chris finishes his interview and hugs Susan. "Chris, your girl is very good. I like her a lot. You've done well. She's got a nice vibe to her."

"I got lucky in that sense," Chris says. "She picked me."

"Adorable. You sound like a man in love. What are you doing after this shitty thing?"

"We have a room at the Tower," Chris says. "Have an invite to the Vanity Fair party but I don't know if we'll go."

"Don't!" Robert says. "Mark and I rented out a club so come party with us. It's going to get crazy but it'll be controlled."

"Sounds great," Chris says. "I didn't want to be some place stuffy anyway."

"Hell, no," Robert says. "Anyway, I've pissed off my people long enough. We'll see you later. And Clemmie, stay fabulous and sweet."

"I will do my best," I say.

"Great," Robert says. "Bye, Dorito."

Chris talks to a few more reporters and then we're at the end of the line.

"We made it!" Chris says, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I don't know if that's supposed to be more of a comfort for him or for me, but I don't mind.

"You did," Evi says. "Well done. Let's get inside then."

We're led through throngs of people and I run to the bathroom before having to be in it for the long haul. The tiny stall is the drawback to having a skirt that's about as poofy as I am tall, and it's a real effort to get it up enough to use the toilet. As I wash my hands, I see her.

"Sandra, hello. I promise I'm not a crazy person or anything," I say, "but I felt like I should introduce myself. I'm Clemmie Rogers, Chr—"

"You're Chris's girlfriend! Of course! He talks about you all the time!" She says, walking slowly forward in a sleek black dress. "Hi!"

"Hello!" I say again, but now she's hugging me. I'm hugging Sandra Bullock.

And Chris's ex.

"He loves you and Louis," I say. "I hear about Louis all the time."

"He is a fun little kid," Sandra says. "Love of my life. It was super nice to meet you, and I’ll probably see you later."

“Okay,” I say. “Nice to meet you, too. I love your movies."

“Oh, thanks!” she says, and I follow her out of the bathroom.

“Hey, Sandy!” Chris says, hugging her. “Oh, you met Clemmie! How great."

“It really is,” Sandra says. “She’s cute, Chris."

“I know,” he says. “Anyway, we’re wanted inside so we should get going."

“Of course, babe,” she says. “See you later, and it was nice to meet you, Clemmie."

She waves as she’s directed away from us and Chris takes my hand. “You want to be on TV?"

“What?"

“They want me to talk for just a few seconds on ABC, and you can come with if you want,” he says.

“Oh, okay,” I say. “I can stand next to you and all that."

“Perfect,” he says.

“So I just peed with Sandra Bullock,” I say.

Chris erupts with laughter as we follow Evi to the side of stage where Robin Roberts waits. There’s a whole crew of people standing in a circle and Chris helps me up the stairs.

“Chris, so good to see you again,” Robin says. “Now, before we get on air, I want to get everything straight. You’re Chris Evans and this is?"

“This is Clementine Rogers,” Chris says, gesturing to me. “Fashion designer and my girlfriend."

“Oh, well, it’s so nice to meet you,” Robin says, shaking my hand. Chris raises his eyebrows at me as I stand next to him and adjust my skirt. I scoot into his side and he slides his arm around me, just like we did for the pictures.

“We’re live in five, four…"

“Good evening, I’m Robin Roberts and we’re just under five minutes until the start of the show. I’m joined by the wonderful Chris Evans who is presenting and his girlfriend, Clementine Rogers. You’re both looking sharp tonight."

“Thank you,” Chris says. “You look fabulous as well."

“Thanks,” she says. “Now Clementine, this is your first Oscars, isn’t it?"

“It is,” I say. “It’s been unforgettable and the real show hasn’t even started yet."

“Indeed,” Robin says. “Is there anything you’re looking forward to seeing?"

“I’m excited to see what Kevin Hart does,” Chris says. “He’s a really funny guy so this should be thrilling."

“And you, Clementine?"

“I’ve already met Robert Downey Jr. and Sandra Bullock so that’s been really exciting,” I answer. “I am looking forward to Beyoncé. That should be good."

“It should!” Robin chirps. “We all love Beyoncé!"

“She is queen,” Chris laughs.

“So you’ve got Captain America: Civil War coming out soon,” Robin says, “what can you tell us about that?"

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing,” Chris says. “I like it a lot, I’m excited about it and I hope the fans are pleased with it."

“What can you tell us about Captain America?” Robin says, pointing the microphone in my face.

“I know nothing except the actor who plays him is charming and handsome."

“He certainly is,” Robin says. “Thank you for stopping by but now it’s time to go over to Lara in the Academy Lounge."

Chris winks at me as we wait for the go ahead to move, and then we’re being escorted off stage.

“You handled that nicely,” he says, keeping his hand on my back.

“You think? She just shoved that microphone in my face and I didn’t know what to say."

“No,” he says, “you were great. Charming and handsome are some of the best adjectives anyone’s ever used to describe me."

“They fit, yes?” I say. A young man points us in the direction of our row and Chris is instructed when he should head back stage.

“There he is!” Chris Pratt cheers when we’re close. “I love you, man!"

“And I love you,” Chris says. “Listen, this is my girlfriend, Clemmie. Clem, this is Chris and Anna."

“Hey!” Anna says. “I like your dress."

“Thanks,” I say. “I like yours, too. Is that Zuhair Murad?"

“It is,” Anna says. “You know dresses?"

“I’m a designer,” I say. “This is mine."

“It’s great!” she says. “I love the polka dots."

“Thanks!"

“You’re fuckin’ adorable,” Chris Pratt says, pulling me into hug which lifts me off the ground. “And you smell good, too."

“Thank you,” I say.

“Are we sitting next to each other?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, man,” Pratt says, “which is good because I brought a flask."

“Me, too!” Chris pipes. “Clem’s got some granola bars and little bottles of vodka in her purse."

“Yeah, I do,” I say.

“Vodka?” Anna asks, her wide eyes stretching further. “I love vodka."

“You and me both,” I say. “Good times!"

She giggles. “This is good because we can keep each other company while the boys are presenting."

“Excellent,” I say. The Chrises let us sit together, and the night gets increasingly better as my clutch and the flasks get lighter.

It’s Chris’s turn to present and I’m holding my breath for him. He strolls confidently forward with Octavia Spencer at his side and he grins as he holds the envelope. I exhale deeply as he perfectly enunciates his words.

“Oh, he looks good,” Anna purrs. “Very confident."

“Uh-huh,” I say, watching him. His teeth glisten in a grin while Octavia speaks and he winks at me.

“Girl,” Anna hums. “You are getting some tonight."

“I certainly hope so,” I mutter. “I would sprint up there and tackle him right now if it weren’t completely inappropriate."

“John Travolta’s still got to present so you doing that probably wouldn’t be the most surprising thing of the night."

I giggle as the nominations flash up on the screen and Chris opens the envelope. People cheer and Chris and Octavia clap.

“Now it’ll be like half an hour before he’s back,” Anna says. “You want to crack open that Absolut during the next commercial break?"

“Yes, please,” I say.

By the time Chris returns, Anna and I have the giggles.

“You were so good up there, prince,” I say. “Like, had the whole place captivated."

“So captivating,” Anna says. “Chris, I love Clemmie. Like, she is perfect for you. Don’t fuck this up."

“Whoa,” Pratt says, “I guess I should have been keeping better tabs on how much they had to drink."

“We’re fine, honey! We. Are. Fine.” Anna says, poking Pratt’s lapel with each word. “Don’t you like Clemmie for Chris? They’re great together. She’s humble and funny and gorgeous. I mean, I’d fuck her."

“Ooh, wouldn’t the boys like that?” I giggle.

“You’ve slept with a woman?” Chris asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Nope,” I answer, “but Anna would be my first choice if I were going to."

“Awe, I’m flattered,” Anna laughs, twirling another little bottle between her fingers. Pratt plucks it from her hand and tucks it in his pocket. 

“We still have another two hours of this — we’ve got to put the brakes on this."

“You ol’ grump,” Anna says, hitting his chest.

“We’re just slowing down,” Pratt says. “We’ll have the whole night to drink, okay, babe?"

“Okay,” Anna says. Chris drapes his arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.

“You smell nice,” I say, rubbing his chest. “Really nice."

“Thanks, button,” he says. “You, too. You okay?"

“I’m better than okay,” I answer, snuggling put to him. Honestly I could go to sleep right here, right now.

I’m happy for all the winners and glad they all got their awards, but it’s really a relief when it’s over. I don’t know any of these people really and it’s nice they get to thank all those important to them, but there comes a point where it’s just too much. That, and I’m thirsty and starving.

“You heading to Robert’s?” Pratt asks.

“Yeah, man,” Chris says. “You want to go together?"

“I want to hold Clemmie’s hand,” Anna says. “Let’s go, Clementine!"

She grabs me when the row clears out and tries to skip down the aisle but ends up falling forwards, only to be saved by both men grabbing her waist.

“Ha ha! That was so much fun!” she says. “Woo!"

Clinging to my Chris as we make our way through the theater, I shriek a little when we step outside.

“It’s cold, isn’t it?” he asks, shrugging off his jacket. “Here."

“Thanks, prince,” I say, pulling it on. It’s far too big and Chris chuckles.

“I like this look,” he says. “Very becoming on you."

“Thank you, my lord,” I say. “I’ve had a lovely time tonight. Thanks for bringing me."

“Thank you for coming,” he says. “I hope to have you suffer with me through many more of these with me."

“There’s no suffering when we’re together,” I say, smiling up at him. He kisses me softly and gently.

“Are you two coming or are you going to make out all night?” Pratt calls.

“Both if we’re lucky,” Chris answers, tucking me under his arm. “You ready for this?"

“Definitely."

 

I was not ready. My brain pounds against my skull when I wake, but I don’t think Chris faired any better because his foot is by my nose. There’s hardly any light in the room but it’s too bright, and then I feel it.

Jumping over Chris, I make it to the toilet just in time. Throwing up is fucking disgusting and I’m mad at myself I let it get to this point. Eventually I sink to the   
tile and rub my forehead.

Fuck me.

I crawl into the shower after awhile and sit on the floor while the cool water rushes over me.

"Clem?"

I moan in response while Chris opens the shower door and sits next to me.

"Feel like shit, huh?"

I moan again. "What happened?"

"We had a really good time," he says. "Maybe it was too much of a good time."

I nod, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"Do you remember anything?" Chris asks.

"I remember laughing and kissing."

"Do you know who you kissed?"

"You."

"And Anna," he says.

"What?"

He chuckles. "Well, she kissed you once, you giggled and kissed her again."

"Was Chris upset? I can't believe I did that!"

"No, Chris wasn't upset. Why would Chris be upset?"

"Because they're married and they're going to be together forever and I kissed her."

"It was nothing, really," he says. "Each one lasted no more than a few seconds and there was no tongue. It was very sweet actually."

"Well, that's nice, I guess. Did you care?"

"Did I care what?"

"That I kissed someone else?"

"When you were as drunk as you were and it was someone I like as much as I like Anna and I know it didn't mean anything, especially now that you don't even remember it? No, I don't care. If it had meant something or was more than it was, then I would care. You sucked tequila out of Renner's belly button so that was probably more shocking."

"I am never getting drunk again."

"Don't worry," Chris says, "he liked it."

"That's not surprising."

"It really isn't," Chris says.

"How are you not throwing up right now?"

"I have a high tolerance," he says. "I drink like a frat boy and have at least seventy pounds on you."

"True," I say. "You are eternally a frat boy."

He laughs and kisses my head. "You ready for a real shower or not?"

"I guess I can stand up," I say. "What time is check out?"

"I got it at four so we've got plenty of time. You took care of me once when I had a serious hangover, let me take care of you."

After a nice shower and a large cup of tea, I feel almost human again. I curl up next to him in bed after he calls in room service. He absently runs his fingers through my hair while we watch an infomercial. His phone rings and he laughs when he reaches for it.

"Mom's review," he says. "Hey! Yeah, okay." He drops his phone on his chest. "You're on speaker."

"Clem, are you there?" Lisa asks.

"Hi, mom," I say. "How are you?"

"I'm great," Lisa says, "but Clem, it's all you!"

"What?"

"You stole the show, my dear. I've been looking at all the sites this morning and people love you."

"Oh?"

"Yes!" Lisa says. "Forget all those death threats because they're a thing of the past."

"That's a relief."

“Yes,” Lisa says, “Alexandra is at the top of all the best dressed lists and you even earned an honorable mention since you’re not quite known yet. There are gifs of you talking about Robert and Sandra and the fans are turning around."

“They are?"

“Yes! Listen to this one, dear. It comes from this girl on tumblr who calls herself Chris's mom which is ridiculous because I'm his mom, but a lot of his fans listen to her. She says, 'So I know we all have our reservations about Chris and who he's dating. There were some scruples about Clementine Rogers when news of their relationship first started, and it seemed like there was good reason. However, the more I know of Clementine Rogers, the more I like her. For starters, she's obviously beautiful, has impeccable taste in fashion and she seems to have a way of making everyone around her smile.' She's included a picture of you with Evi, one with Alexandra and another with Robert, and everyone is smiling. 'She graduated magna cum laude from the University of Missouri with a dual major in fashion and finance, and she works for the leading wedding planner in St. Louis. Her clients all seem to love her.' And now the girl's included some pictures of you from brides' Instagrams. 'She's wildly successful and the dresses she designs are stunning. Her portfolio not only features the tall, thin models we see every day, but also women of color, short women and women with curves. I was surprised to see so many different faces when I looked through her designs. Scott, Chris's younger brother whom we all adore, loves Clemmie. They hang out even when Chris is not around. We can only assume if she has earned Scott's approval that she also has the favor of Mama Lisa.' Which you do, of course! Can you handle this, Clemmie? This girl knows her stuff. I haven't even made it to the best part.

" 'I love Chris as much as the next woman, and as much as I would like him for myself, I know the chances of that are slim to none. What I do wish for him then is happiness. Pure, simple happiness. When his arm is around Clemmie, that is what I see. He looks at her like she is the sun and he is a tree, soaking in her light and warmth. They look good and happy together.' And she has pictures of you from the red carpet. 'He's in love with her, and for that we should be happy.' Here's the gif of Chris saying he loves you on the carpet last night."

"They already giffed that?" Chris asks.

"They have," Lisa says. "I've already saved so I can add it to the digital book of your life."

Chris chuckles and rolls his eyes.

"Anyway," Lisa says, " 'If not for the way Chris looks at her, study the way she looks at him. This situation would be tricky for anybody — we know Chris dislikes the press part — but she handles it with grace and smiles. Of course her smile gets wider when she's looking at Chris, and that's sweet. She's supportive and completely content to just be at his side. My favorite moment was this one caught on a camera after the night. Chris and Clemmie are in the far corner of the screen, but you can see how fond they are of each other. She's cold so he gives her his coat, and then they stand together, like any normal couple would. I read they went to a party thrown by Mark Ruffalo and RDJ after the Oscars so I'm sure few photos will surface, but if they do, we can bet these two were having a good time.' "

"Too good," I mutter.

"Clemmie kissed a girl!" Chris giggles.

"Oh?" Lisa asked.

"She was funny and cute and I obviously still left with Chris," I add. I've never been through this with a boyfriend before. I’ve never kissed another woman before either.

"Clem, dear," Lisa says, "you don't owe me any explanation. Not to call you a drunk, but I know how my son takes his liquor and I know how easy it is to get intoxicated around him. I'm guessing you don't kiss other women often and that you were inebriated if my son was celebrating, and maybe you just wanted to kiss her."

"It was Anna, mom," Chris says.

"And that's all the explanation one needs!" Lisa laughs. "I love her. Anyway, I'm not finished with my story. So, the girl concludes, 'Chris is a grown man in charge of his own life and the decisions he makes. Obviously he knows better than anybody else what he wants in a woman and if he's found that in her, I say congrats. It's hard enough being in a relationship when you're a regular person so I can't imagine how difficult it is for them. Yes, I am happy for them, and I, as a member of his fandom, give them my blessing. So should you.' And she ends with this, 'And should Clementine Rogers fuck this thing up, I will be ready to put Chris's beautiful heart back together.' "

"Why is it always me fucking things up?" I ask, rubbing my head. "At least Anna said you would be the one to fuck things up."

"Yeah, it probably would be me," Chris agrees, "but that won't happen. Unless of course you and Anna declare your love for each other and run away to Fiji with only your swimsuits and lust in tow."

I smack his chest. "You better watch out because she could literally steal me right out from under you."

"You're not under me yet," Chris says, grabbing my arms and flipping me on my back. His muscles flex as he pins me down. God, he's gorgeous.

"Oh dear!" Lisa cries from the phone trapped between our chests. "I'm still here but I guess I'll go. I love you both and I'm glad you had a good time!"

"Love you!" We both say at the same time. I feel my chest burning with want because I know we didn't have sex last night and are a bit overdue.

"And any time you two want to tell me I'm having another grand baby is a time I'm happy to hear about!"

"Not yet, mother! Bye!" He grabs his phone, disconnects the call and flings it across the room. "There's one thing I have that Anna doesn't."

"A beard."

"Well, that too," he says, pinning my wrists by my head. "I was going to say penis."

"What's the big deal about that? Most women can't get off on penis alone and 90% of the time I am in that number. I mean, it feels good but it's nothing special."

"You take this exact moment to tease me?"

"Well, for a woman, a penis isn't the end all, be all."

He grunts and narrows his eyes at me. I squeal when he flips over me and pulls me into his lap, my head falling towards the floor. My hair swirls on the carpet and I push myself up on my arms.

"Have you ever been spanked, Clementine?"

"Only as discipline by my parents. It's been a few years."

"Clem." He groans, half in frustration, half in lust. I shriek when his hand lands harshly on my right cheek. He rubs it a little before slapping the other one with the same force.

"Do I need to stop?"

"No."

"Good." Right. Left. My insides are mush. It feels like running on a hot summer's day and my lungs are bursting for oxygen. He places one slight slap right over my labia and I cry out, my arms buckling.

"Nope, we're not finished yet," he says sternly. Rubbing my ass cheeks, he bends over and pulls the hair away from my face. "Unless you want to stop. I don't want to force you into something you don't want to do."

"No, please continue," I say. He kisses my shoulder before swinging his hand back down to my bum.

Left. Right. Left. Middle.

"Fuck." I hiss.

"That I can do," he says, hauling me onto the bed. "You're dripping."

He pulls me onto my knees and I giggle.

"What would the world think if they knew Captain America liked to take women from behind?"

"Not women," he says pointedly, grabbing my hips. "Just you."

He plunges himself deep inside me and I cry out, rocking forward. I probably would have fallen over if he wasn't holding me up, and he moves quickly and forcefully.

The sheets curl beneath my fingers as the sound of his hips slapping my ass fills the room.

I laugh as the familiar feeling sweeps from my gut to the tips of my toes and fills my head. The orgasm rolls through me the way a cup of hot coco warms your body.

"What's that? Did you just have an orgasm on penis alone?"

"Shut up."

"Yes, ma'am."

I move back as he pushes forward and he groans. Fingertips dig into my skin with his last few thrusts and I collapse when he pulls out.

"What was that? Did you just have an orgasm on my sweet lady bits alone?"

"Lady bits?" Chris laughs, his chest heaving as he falls next to me.

"I despise the 'p' and ‘c' words, and vagina just sounds so clinical so I didn't know what else to call it."

"So the ‘p' and ‘c' words are out," he says. "Noted. What about twat?"

"You're British now?"

He doesn't get to answer because there's a knock at the door.

"That'll be lunch," he says, kissing my shoulder as he sits up. "You stay here and I'll be right back."

He tugs my silk nightie to cover my exposed bum on his way to the door. I sigh as he slides on a pair of boxers, hating to see that beautiful ass of his disappear.

"How's your ass?" he asks, carrying the two trays towards the bed.

"Okay," I answer. "You could kiss it a little if you want."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah," I answer. "I'm smart enough to know when you're not swinging with full force so I thank you for that."

"You want me to rub it?"

"No, thanks," I say. "I want food."

"And food we have."

I have to eat laying on my stomach because my bum actually smarts a bit, but I don’t mind. Chris cleans up when we’re finished, and I roll over onto my side deciding I’d rather stay in bed than do anything productive.

“What are you thinking, button?” Chris asks as he flops beside me.

“I think I had a great time,” I say. “I thoroughly enjoyed being on your arm and meeting all your friends. I love all my time spent with you."

“I love all my time spent with you,” he says, running his finger along my nose. “Do you want to put on real clothes, go home and veg out with some horrible movie on Netflix?"

“I think that sounds like a prime idea,” I say. “The car is picking me up early in the morning so I don’t really want to have another crazy night."

“Do you have to go?” He whines, his hand falling to the small of my back.

“Sadly,” I say. “You’ll be back in Boston soon though so it’s not like we won’t see each other soon."

“Maybe I’ll move to St. Louis."

“I’d like to see you try,” I say. “You would hate permanently living in St. Louis."

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says. “You want to move to New York?"

“I could go for that."

“It’s settled then,” he says. “We are moving to New York."

“We’re not really moving to New York, are we? It doesn’t seem like it’s your kind of town."

“It’s not,” he says. “I would do it though if it meant we could be together all the time."

“Well, who knows? I could be in Philadelphia soon. That’s like a five-hour drive. We could spend Saturdays together. And by that, I mean you can come visit me on Saturdays because I’ll have weddings."

“Hum,” he says. “Saturday’s in Philadelphia. I wonder where the best cheesesteaks are."

“Oh, Philly’s Diner across from the lake,” I say.

“Really?"

“No, I just made that up,” I laugh. “We’ve made this work so far."

“I know,” Chris says, “but now you’re kissing other women and I worry I’m losing my grip."

“Har har,” I say. “You’re just jealous that Anna kissed me twice after only knowing me for hours and it took you months to whip up that kind of courage."

“Clementine Rogers is due for another spanking,” he says, slapping my butt. I squeal as I scurry off the bed and seek shelter in the bathroom. I know it’s a silly thought to have as I’m hiding from him, but I giggle as I lean against the door. I could do the rest of my life with Chris, just like this.


	11. Chapter 11

“Hey, button,” Chris says, wrapping his arms around me. “How was your flight?"

“Flight-like,” I answer. I smile as I kiss him and rub his back. “Are you ready for this?"

“I certainly hope so,” he says. “I mean, they’re just two teenage boys, right?"

“Indeed,” I say. “They’re both well behaved."

“Hey Harrison," Chris says, nodding at my brother. "How are you?"

"Doing just fine," Harrison says. "Thanks for letting me stay with you for the night."

"Not a problem," Chris says. "Thanks for being able to make all this happen."

"Of course," Harrison says. "Let me lock up and we can go."

"Thanks," I say, leaning against Chris.

"How is Miss Do?" Chris asks, petting her head.

"She's sad, I guess," I say. "She must be missing Care."

“I'm sorry. How's the apartment?” Chris asks, swinging our hands between us.

“Big and lonely,” I answer. “Care and Dixon have been together for three years and just now decide to move in together – and in his apartment, too."

“You’ll be fine,” he says. “You can make her room your own studio."

“I know,” I say. “It’s really not terrible, but I miss Care, you know? We’ve lived together for five whole years and now that’s over. I knew it had happen sometime but it’s the pits."

“I’m sorry.” His eyelashes flutter sincerely against his cheeks as he rubs my knuckle with his thumb.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Part of growing up, I guess. Dammit."

I’m starting to cry again thinking about it. Care and I cried together when Dixon carried out the last box which is completely uncharacteristic for Care, but I hadn’t really talked to anybody else about it since the day.

“Awe, Clem,” Chris says, pulling me into his arms. “You’ll still see her. You probably won’t be in St. Louis much longer anyway, so now you don’t have to worry about Care renting out the apartment without you. You’ve already talked to her today, haven’t you?"

“Twice,” I answer, “and we’ve been texting."

“I knew it,” he says. “I’m very proud of how you’re handling it. I know she’s like a sister to you but you’ll be okay without her."

“I know,” I say. “It’s just nice having someone to watch Say Yes to the Dress with and to binge watch America’s Next Top Model, and now I have to watch them alone."

“I will watch them with you,” he says. “If it means we can cuddle on the couch together, I will suffer through it for you."

“Thanks, prince,” I say.

“We can go," Harrison says, locking the door of the plane.

"Fantastic," Chris says. "I picked up steaks."

After a delicious dinner, Harrison heads to the bedroom in the basement so he can get lots of sleep before flying us around the country tomorrow. Chris and I settle on the couch with Do laying peacefully on the floor in front of us.

“I should probably tell you something,” I say, “and you may have already figured it out because you haven’t said anything about it, but it’s bound to come up at some point."

“What’s that? Are you okay, Clem?"

“I’m fine, mostly,” I say, feeling him tense beneath me. “It’s just I’ve never given a blow job before."

“What?"

“I’ve never done the oral sex before,” I repeat, even more quietly than the first time. I’m glad my face is on his chest because my cheeks are so red.

He laughs loudly and sits up. “What do you mean?"

“I’ve just… I’ve never… Well, I only thought it was fair that a guy be willing to go down on me if he wanted me to go down on him and no one has ever liked that idea. And the very first guy I was with wanted me to and I was on my knees and it was there all limp and wrinkly and there was so much hair, Chris! Like, so much hair I could hardly see the damn thing. If I’d have done it with my eyes open, I’d have scratched my cornea. Hair is fine of course, but at least thin it out of you can't even find the tiny thing!"

“You’ve never been eaten out?"

I shake my head.

“Hell, girl! I just thought you didn’t like it."

“I don’t know,” I say.

“We can fix that right now,” he says, reaching for the zipper on my jeans.

“Right now? You want to do it right now?"

“Why delay?” he asks. His pupils are dilated and his breathing is rapid – he’s excited.

“Can I take a shower first? I’ve been traveling and everything."

“A shower is good,” he says, standing quickly and tugging me with him. “A shower will help you relax. Come on."

He pulls me upstairs, stopping only to push me against the wall of the landing, kissing me recklessly. Once we’re in the bathroom, he drops to his knees before me.

“Do you need a few minutes to yourself?"

I nod, slowy. This is happening.

“Okay,” he says. “Use whatever you need. Make yourself at home and relax. You’ll enjoy it more if you’re relaxed. I'll take care of Do for the night."

I undress, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor. I take the time to wash my hair and scrub off that icky airport feeling, and I stand under the water. I jump a little when the music blasts over the speakers in the bathroom. It’s Nina Simone, and I laugh. Chris pokes his head around the corner.

“How are you?"

“I’m doing very well,” I say, holding out my hand. “How are you?"

“I want a little sugar in my bowl.” He wraps his arms around me, our naked flesh sliding together.

“I bet you do,” I say, looking up at him. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his chest in front of my nose. We sway together through the song and I kiss him happily as some lovely John Legend song comes on next. He's put thought into this playlist. Laughing, I grab his loofa and lather him up, feeling content enough to draw a heart in the suds on his chest. He chuckles, the light in his eyes bright and then he lifts me onto the bench so I can wash his hair. I sigh as he kisses my belly as I rinse out the last of the shampoo.

He kisses me happily, pushing my back against the tile. I feel completely gleeful and relaxed as he drags his hand slowly up and down my sides.

It's like a switch is flipped. Hozier's "Take Me to Church" comes on and I don't know if it's the beat or guitar or what, but he turns into an animal, pushing me so my chest is against the wall, one of the jets right between my legs. He moves me so the water hits my clit in the most glorious way, my cheek against the tile.

Muffling my moans with his mouth, he keeps his hands planted firmly on me to keep me from backing away, not that I would anyway. Having enough sanity still left in me, I lace one hand into his hair, clutching onto it so I don't lose myself. He presses his body into me, leaving his hands free to wrap around my breasts, and I groan when he pinches my nipples.

It happens all at once then, one of those orgasms that leaves you devastatingly and rapturously wrecked. He keeps me upright and I whine until he turns me around so I can kiss him. And it is so fucking good.

"We're wasting water," I gasp minutes later.

"You're right," he says, reaching over to press the button that shuts everything off. He plucks a bathrobe from a hook and drapes it around my shoulders. I wrap it around myself and ogle as he runs a towel around his body.

"Come here." He holds out his hand and leads me towards the vanity. "Sit."

I sigh when he starts to comb my wet hair, gently massaging my scalp with each movement. I'm practically asleep when he finishes, and he gently coaxes me to my feet.

"I think that had the opposite effect you were wanting," I whisper, leaning my head against his chest.

"I just want you happy and relaxed," he says. "Whatever happens, happens. I also knew if we moved forward with this and your hair was a mess, you wouldn't be able to concentrate — or to not, not concentrate."

"True," I hum, running my fingers through his chest hair. "There are no words to truly express how much I love you."

He grins as he cups my chin in his palm. “I love you, too."

I stand on my toes to kiss him, and he moans against my lips. We both know it's more comfortable for him to hold me, so I comply when he grips my thigh with his strong hands.

He carries me to the bed and I stand on the edge.

"You're still going to do this?" I ask, resting my hands on his shoulders.

"If you want."

"The hair doesn't bother you?"

He exhales happily with that sappy look on his eyes that makes me feel fuzzy. His deft fingers untie my sash and push my robe aside.

"This little strip of hair that's perfectly trimmed and shaped is definitely not a problem," he says, nuzzling my hip with his cheek. "Don't worry about your personal grooming habits." He kisses my belly button. "Do you mind if we take off the robe?"

I shake my head as I let it fall off my arms and toss it towards the bathroom.

"You are so gorgeous," he says. "I think you've heard it all your life but I still don't think you actually know how I feel when I'm with you."

I feel exposed and vulnerable but the way he's looking at me makes me feel less so. In the most indecent way, I flop ungracefully onto the mattress and wait for him to smother my body with his. His lips worship my neck while his hand slides along my body. He kisses each eyelid and nibbles my earlobes before moving slowly down my chest.

"Clementine," he croons between light kisses along my sternum. "Clementine, Clementine, Clementine." He nuzzles my thigh with his cheek and kisses my skin. "I hope you don't mind a little beard burn."

"I'll take my chances," I say, keeping my eyes closed because I don't want to lose the weightlessness my body feels.

Chris nuzzles the other thigh as he sinks to his knees on the floor. He kisses the backs of my knees before tossing them over his shoulders.

"Just tell me if you don't like something," he says, "or if you do."

"Proceed," I say, waving my hand at him.

Hooking his hands around my thighs, he pulls me to the edge of the bed so the backs of my thighs are against his shoulders. I take a deep breath in anticipation and let it out slowly as I have no idea what he's doing. I'm tempted to look but I know to see his head between my thighs would make me blush from head to toe, and I'm not sure that's what I want at the moment.

"Do you mind if I use my fingers?"

"Whatever yields the best results."

Deftly he massages my mons with his fingers before running his nose through my pubic hair. My back arches with his first lick and I giggle when he does it again.

"Giggling?" he asks, continuing to move his fingers.

"It feels funny," I say. "It's very good but very funny."

"Let's see if I can get you to stop," he says, sliding a finger inside me. He circles my clit with the tip of his tongue and it doesn't take long for the giggling to subside into breathy moans.

It's like spring, when the flowers are blossoming into beautiful colors and the trees are all a fresh bright green — hope hangs in the air with the promise of new life and coming change. Warmth spreads through my body and I climb higher and higher, running up the hill among the dragonflies and dandelions.

It feels too good, his tongue and fingers and breath, and I rake my fingers in his hair when my orgasm rushes through my body.

I exhale loudly when I finally open my eyes and Chris lays on his side next to me.

"That's what I've been missing out on?"

"Indeed," he says, lightly running his fingers across my abdomen.

"To think of those asshats had been willing to do that for me," I say, "I could have rocked their worlds with my mouth."

"So sure of yourself," Chris laughs. "There's also no guarantee those asshats would be as accomplished as I."

"Yes, I don't know how many times you had to do that to become so accomplished but I am happy to reap the benefits of the other women's possible misfortune."

"Misfortune?"

"Poor Cricket," I say, "she might have been your first but also probably your worst. You didn't know where her clit was."

"I'm never going to live that down," Chris says, "and in my mind, there was a drunken night with an ex that was probably worse for her than Cricket."

"Well, you've gotten it figured out," I say. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," he says. "You are reaping the benefits."

"I know," I say, rolling onto my side so I can see him. "What now?"

"We can go to sleep if you want."

"What?"

"Sleep."

"After that?"

"Well, I could do that for you and that could be it," he says. "When women give men a blow job, that's often all there is, so I don't see why I can't do that and that be it."

"I'm flattered," I say, "but be real. You may be named after the saint around your neck but you're not him. You're so hard I could hang a flag off your dick so let's not pretend. Is there anything I should know?"

"Avoid teeth," he says. "Please."

"Yes, sir," I say, tracing his arm with my finger. "Why is it called a blow job? You don't really blow much, right?"

"You're thinking about the name right now?"

"I am," I say. "Like, hummer is better, right?"

"I don't really care what you call it."

"Fair enough, Christopher. You position yourself however you'd like to be and I'll follow your lead."

"All right," he says, rolling onto his back. "You're sure you want to do this?"

"Positive," I say. "You like it, I might not hate it and I'm willing to figure it out. Just remember I don't know what I'm doing."

"I'll let you know," he says.

"Can you close your eyes?"

" 'Course, button."

"I'm going to take my time."

"That's fine."

He's got that quirky little half smile scrunching his cheek but his eyelashes at least rest against his cheek.

"Do you mind if I use my fingers?"

"Whatever yields the best results."

I laugh as I climb between his legs. He is fully erect and I take a deep breath as I look at the thing. I don't want to start there yet.

He smells like soap and me, and I smile as I run my hands along his chest. Practically a ragdoll to do with as I please, he stays completely still as I kiss him. I suck his lower lip between mine and give it a little nibble; he moans. His neck is gorgeous and I kiss it next, spending a lot of time with his Adam's apple and the dip in his neck. He likes it because he grabs my wrist and his grip tightens every now and then. Moving along to his chest, I take time running my perfectly manicured purple nails through the coarse hair. He purrs like a cat and I smile when he moans. I lick circles around his nipples and playfully bite each one until he's panting.

There are certain things I know about penises from reading various things, but it's much different in practice.

"You can touch it, you know."

"I know," I say. "I'm just trying to decide the best route."

"But you want to?"

"Yes."

His fingers wrap around mine and move my palm from his chest to his hard cock.

"There," he says, "first touch is done. Now it's all less exciting."

"That's what you think," I say, swatting his hand from mine. "I just need a minute."

"No rush."

It's really quite beautiful, his penis. I've never thought that about a penis before but his is nice. I wrap both my forefingers and thumbs around it gently and move my fingers in opposite directions with caution, trying to get a feel for the stretch of his skin.

"That's nice."

Details become less important after that as I start experimenting with my mouth between the tip, the shaft and his testicles, and his fingers wrap tightly in my hair.

"Teeth! Teeth!"

I mumble sorry with my lips still around the head and my other hand massaging his perineum. I keep going, mindful of my teeth.

"Clem," he whispers, his abs clenching as I lick the tip and run my fingers along that little seam of his testicles. He likes that.

I move just in time as his ejaculate coats my shoulder and my hand, but he's gripping onto me. His breaths settle after a few minutes and I quit moving my hand but leave it on his shaft.

"You're sure you've never done that before?"

"Positive," I say. "I might have done some reading. Might have talked to Oz."

"You talked to your brother about that? He's going to hate me."

"I just asked for advice," I say, sitting back on my heels. "Let me tell you a story about Oz. When I was fifteen, this boy I'd been seeing all of a week came over to the house. We were on the couch kissing — I wouldn't even say making out because he was horrible at it — and he kept squeezing my breast even though I told him not to. It was his first time over to my house, my family was all over the place, and I didn't like what he was doing so I just didn't want him man-handling my boob. I mean, they were even smaller than they are now and the bra I was wearing was all padding so I didn't feel much anyway, but it was the principal. He kept saying, 'Clem, you're supposed to like it. It should feel good. Clemmie, how am I supposed to show you how much I like you if I can't even touch you?' Anyway, he got a bit more aggressive with his words and touches, and I hopped over the arm of the couch to get away when Oz ran in the room. It didn't take him long to figure out what was going on because the idiot was standing there shouting horrible names at me. Anyway, Oz broke his nose. Long story short, Oz is happy to answer any questions about sex I have when he knows I'm comfortable with it and I trust the person."

"You've asked him stuff before?"

"I asked him what pegging and rim jobs were when I was 21, not because I was personally interested to doing the act right away, but just because I didn't know."

"Well, whatever he told you, it was good advice. That was a very good blow job."

"For my first time?"

"For any time."

"I'm sorry I didn't swallow. I figured I should take it one step—"

"Clem," he says, sitting up. "I honestly don't care. I was in the middle of having an orgasm so I really don't care whether or not you swallow. I am sorry it's all over you."

"Yeah, I'm going to go rinse this off."

"I'll come with you," he says, taking my hands in his. "I'm really touched you asked about it."

"I didn't want to be completely helpless," I say. "Sorry about the teeth."

"Not a problem," he says. "To the shower."

"To the shower."

All clean and completely blissful, I settle into bed with Dorota by my side.

"She still seems sad," Chris says, climbing in behind me.

"I think maybe she misses Care," I say. "I've made an appointment with the vet for when we get back though."

"Well, I hope she's all right," Chris says, reaching over me to pet her head.

"Me too," I say. She licks my chin and lays her head on my arm. I want to sleep just like this every night for the rest of my life.

 

Florida is absolutely beautiful. The sky is the most magnificent shade of blue when we land and Tobias and his friend Noah lose their minds when I hand them the box our tickets were delivered in — an owl brought them. Our suite is upgraded when they confirm Chris is part of our party, and they even add in the Fast Pass for rides.

"This is amazing!" Noah shouts when Chris opens the door. "A living room! Wow! Look at the view! There's a lake!"

"We are so buying wands!" Tobias says. "You can take them around the park and do spells."

"The simple things," Chris laughs, watching them. 

"All right," I say, pulling my suitcase. "We're in here with the big bed, and you two are across there."

"We get our own room?" Noah asks, his eyes wide.

"Yes, but I have ears like a fox and Chris can catch you so don't try anything sneaky."

"I wouldn't dream of it!" Noah says, rushing towards me. He's as tall as I am and his arms are quite long, wrapping easily around me. "Thank you, Miss Clemmie."

"You're welcome," I say. "We can't get into the parks today but how about we get settled and then we'll go to City Walk to eat and look around."

"Cool! Can we go swimming tonight?" Tobias asks.

"Of course," I say. "Go look at your room and please try to keep it clean so the maid doesn't cry in the morning."

"Yes, ma'am," Tobias says. "Thanks, Clem."

"Of course," I say. "We're going to have so much fun."

They run off to their half of the suite, laughing as the go. Chris smiles at me when we're alone and wraps his arms around me.

"You're really great with them," he says.

"It's easy," I say. "Tobias never does anything wrong, I mean that honestly, and Noah is like walking sunshine. You saw how excited he was just to see the room."

"Fancy places not his thing?"

"Single dad," I say. "Works all the time to care for him but it's still hard. I think if Noah and Tobias hadn't been best friends since kindergarten, he wouldn't have let Noah come just because of the expense and the feeling like it's something he could never give Noah. But Dad talked him into it and promised it was no problem for us so here we are. And Dad's taking Mr. Danes fishing in two days so they'll enjoy that."

"That's so nice," Chris says.

"Noah deserves this just as much as Tobes," I shrug. "I thought we would stay with them tomorrow just because I want to buy them both wands and do all the staples like Gringotts, the train and ice cream, but after that I think they can roam on their own."

"That's fine with me," Chris says. "I'll go wherever you go."

We eat dinner at Margaritaville which is great. We all get balloon hats and the boys love singing the songs while Chris and I love the vast variety of margaritas. Making a mad dash for the souvenir shop, we buy rain ponchos because it's practically a downpour. The boys purchase chocolate frogs and rip into them immediately.

The rain stops by the time we walk back to the hotel so the boys skip to the pool as soon as they change.

"We'll be down in a few minutes," I say, watching them race down the hall from our room. "If there's lightning before we make it, get out."

"Yes, Clemmie," Tobias calls. Smiling as I close the door, I find Chris sitting on the edge of the bed sans shirt.

"We've probably got half an hour before they notice, if they even notice," I say, crossing the floor to stand between his knees.

"We can do so much in half an hour," he says, looking at me through his long lashes.

Our time at the parks is simply magical. Tobias won't admit it but I know he cried when he first saw Diagon Alley. I don't laugh though because I did, too. We ride Escape from Gringotts more times than I can count and visit Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor every day. Chris buys me a purple pygmy puff named Pearl and all four of us end up with interactive wands. Tobias and Noah drink so much Butterbeer our second night they end up sick for hours.

I love spending time with my little brother and ensuring he and Noah have the most fantastic trip, but it is really special to experience it with Chris. We get to hold hands and share ice cream and drinks. Chris really likes theme parks which is unexpected but fun, and the fans who do approach us are all very nice. We make love every afternoon while rain pours outside and the boys are still in the parks. I've never been so in love with anybody.

We laugh when Care texts me a tabloid blog post about Chris happily welcoming my bastard child into his life. Of course if they had done their research, they would know Tobias is simply my brother.

I'm feeling on top of the world through the plane ride to North Carolina and the car ride home. Two Rogers children will be under the roof of our parents tonight and Mom will be so excited.

Dad seems really cheerful when he picks us up at the airport, and Noah and Tobias talk the whole way back. I feel a bit unsettled.

"You okay?" Chris asks softly.

"I don't know," I answer, turning to stare out the window.

When we pull up to the house, I know.

"Where is she?" I ask, jumping out of the car.

"Clemmie," Dad says, "she's on the back porch."

Mom is waving from the front door but I skirt around the side. My sweet Dorota lays on the rug between the deck chairs, and she raises her head when she sees me. Atreyu, Arwen and Max, the three family dogs, sit solemnly around her.

"Precious Do! I'm so sorry I wasn't here!"

I bury my face in her fur and hug her neck.

"She wasn't eating," Dad says, "so we took her to the vet yesterday."

"It's cancer, Clementine," Mom says softly, laying her hand on my shoulder. "It's very aggressive."

"It looks like tonight," Dad says, crouching next me.

"Dorota's dying?" Tobias asks. He flops next to me and cries alongside me.

I mumble for a long time as I hold her, and when I look up, I find myself alone with Do except for Chris who sits quietly on the other side of her, one hand in her fur.

"She's glad you're here," he says gently. "I'm so sorry, Clemmie."

His eyes are red and he sniffles, and I sob again. Mom offers dinner eventually but I decline, and Chris does too. Dad brings blankets later, and Tobias supplies hot chocolate. Dorota and I are kissed on the head when the stars are out, and Dorota puts her head in my lap.

"Can you see that big ash tree?" I ask, pointing across the lake. Chris nods. "When I would come home for summer, we would sit under that tree for hours, just the two of us. I would sketch and she would sleep, sometimes running into the water to chase fish or turtles. That is our tree."

"It's a beautiful tree," Chris says. "I buried East in my mom's backyard. I know there's nothing I can say to make this better but I am here for you."

"Thank you," I say, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. "Thank you for everything."

"Think nothing of it," he says, gingerly cupping my chin in his hand.

"For what it's worth, I loved our trip."

"I did, too," he says.

"Sorry, I probably look like shit right now," I say, knowing I cried off all my makeup hours ago.

Chris smiles. “Don’t apologize, button. You’re always beautiful."

I laugh. “Tell me more about East."

We stay for a long time, and I am beyond cold.

“I’ll be back,” Chris says, standing and stretching.

“You should get some sleep,” I say. “I’ll be fine."

“I know you will be,” he says. “I’ll be back."

He disappears inside the house and comes back after a few minutes with another blanket and cups of tea. Instead of sitting down next to me, I watch him walk to the shed. Carrying a shovel, he walks to the tree — mine and Dorota’s tree — and begins to dig under the large, leafy branches.

Dorota licks the tears from my cheeks and I catch myself between a chuckle and a sob. “I’m supposed to be taking care you."

When Chris returns, he’s covered in sweat and dirt, but I lean into him when he sits next to me. We don’t speak until the first twinges of pale blue touch the sky.

“She’s gone."

I have no tears left in me. I wrap Dorota in her favorite blanket and Chris carries her to the tree. Kissing her one last time, I say goodbye to my best friend and most loyal companion. We make quick work of covering her, and I make a circle of rocks as a headstone. The family dogs howl their goodbyes, and the birds sing their morning tune.

Dad wraps his arm around my shoulders, still in his pajamas with three mugs of coffee in his grip.

“You gave her the best life possible,” he says, “and she loved you so much. Dorota was a loyal, beautiful dog, and she will be missed."

“They said I would be lucky to have her for three years, with her missing leg and uterus and all,” I say. “She would have been six in April so I guess I was extremely blessed."

“You are very blessed, but you also gave her a reason to stick around for so long,” Dad says. He stays for awhile longer and kisses my head when he leaves.

“We should go inside,” I say. “Try to get a few hours of sleep."

Chris nods and kisses my forehead. “I bet she’s running around on all four legs with East, probably eating raw steak and peeing on rose bushes."

“She always did like rose bushes,” I say, leaning against him. “Thanks for digging her grave."

“Of course,” he says. “Do you think she’ll like it there?"

“She couldn’t be happier,” I say. “I love you."

“I love you, too."

That night, I return to my apartment which is too big and too empty. My parents, siblings, roommate, dog and boyfriend are all somewhere else, and I am alone for the first time in a long time. I have more tears to shed.


	12. Chapter 12

Life without Dorota is hard. It’s been a week and I’m still finding toys around the apartment. I consider them little presents though. I took her remaining food and the toys still in decent condition to the shelter where I almost adopted another dog but decided it was too soon.

I’ve been throwing myself into work, sketching a line of twelve dresses for petite women. Sample dresses in stores are usually tailored for women who are 5’10” and it could be really hard for a bride to imagine how it will actually be cut for her body when she’s on the shorter side. I create eight new dresses and my seamstress is cutting them in every size up to a 22 for samples, something almost impossible to find at any boutique. I don’t think Kleinfeld will take them, but at least they’ll be available.

Tina has been a godsend at work. She’s taken all but one of my weddings in April and has helped me round up all our information for the new office. We’ve narrowed it down to Pittsburg, Philadelphia, and a third town just for me. Mrs. Morganstern has lessened my workload until she decides on a final destination for the new office so I can be ready to start building the branch.

It’s Thursday and I’m at the little wedding shop where Amy and Mrs. Hart took a chance on me. Amy called this morning with word a bride is requesting a custom dress based on one of my designs if I could make a few simple changes. I agreed to come into the store, more than happy for the distraction.

“You’re here,” Amy says, hugging me. “She wants the Lafayette but she wants to alter the skirt just a little bit."

“I can do that,” I say, rolling my sewing machine in its container behind me.

“We have another appointment in half an hour,” Amy says, “but we won’t be in your way."

“Not a problem,” I say. “Glad I can be here today."

“No, thank you,” Amy says, leading me to the back of the store. “Clemmie, this is our bride, Drusilla. Drusilla, this is Clemmie, the designer."

“So nice to meet you,” I say. “Let’s get started."

We get her in the dress, and aside from having to let it out a couple inches at the waist, she wants the skirt converted so that she can take off the bottom layers for the reception. She and her mother are willing to pay generously, and like I said, I don’t mind the distraction.

The other bride arrives precisely on time and alone, and McKenzie gets to work on the other side of the studio. The first dress is one of mine, and it’s breathtaking on the bride.

“This lovely young lady down here on the floor is the designer of that dress,” McKenzie says.

“That’s Clementine Rogers?” the bride asks, charging off the pedestal towards me. I stand up to shake her hand, and she looks oddly familiar. “I love your dresses, so much! I came here specifically from Nashville just to see your dresses. They’re amazing."

“Oh, thank you so much,” I say. “I’m flattered."

“No, they’re gorgeous,” she says. “I can’t wait to wear one of yours down the aisle. I’m Lola."

“Nice to meet you,” I say. “Do enjoy your dress shopping."

Drusilla turns on her pedestal to look at Lola. “Is this your first time trying on dresses?"

“It is,” Lola says. “That’s Lafayette, isn’t it? It’s beautiful on you."

She really knows my dresses.

“Thanks,” Drusilla says. “That one is lovely on you."

“I like the way it fits,” Lola says, “but this is dress number one so I need a few more."

“And we have a few to try on,” McKenzie says. “Let’s commit this one to memory and keep moving."

The more I watch Lola come out of the dressing room, the more I decide she just has one of those faces. The dresses fit her perfectly, like I could have her model them for pictures if I wanted. Drusilla’s phone rings and we quiet down while she talks to her fiancé.

“That was Will,” she says, passing her phone back to her mother. “He’s the best."

“My Chris is the best,” Lola says. “He’s perfect."

“Your fiancé’s name is Chris?” I ask. “My boyfriend is a Chris."

“No way,” Lola says. “I bet he’s really handsome to be with you."

“Um, thank you,” I say. “He is pretty cute."

“He’s better than that,” Drusilla laughs. “You blushed so much he must be like a movie star."

“He could be,” I play it off.

"My Chris is in entertainment," Lola says. "He could be the next Robert Downey Jr. minus the rough patch."

"Sounds amazing," Drusilla says. "Will is a banker."

"Always important," I say, hoping they'll drop the conversation.

Finishing Drusilla's adjustments and alterations, I take myself to the nail salon. My phone buzzes and I shriek when it's Care.

"You want to come over for dinner?"

"Do I want to? Yes! I would love to come over for dinner!"

"Great," Care says. "We'll see you whenever you're ready."

"Really?"

"Yes," Care says. "I miss splitting the couch with you."

"I'll be there soon!"

"Boyfriend?" The manicurist asks.

"Best friend in the whole world," I answer. "We used to be roommates but she moved out recently and I miss her so much. My boyfriend is currently working on business in another town so it'll be awhile before I can see him."

"A pretty girl like you should never spend the night alone," she says, filing around the edge. "You need a ring on this finger and a man in your bed."

"It's too soon for that," I say, "but maybe one day."

" 'One day!' she says. 'One day.' You younger generations are all so progressive in your relationships. I was married at nineteen to my husband and we've been together ever since. Never a happier union!"

"Congratulations," I say.

"You're just like my daughter," she says. "She has a boyfriend but doesn't want to marry him yet. I guess when you're all secure in your jobs now, marriage isn't a requirement."

"Cheers to feminism, better pay and better jobs."

"Hear, hear!" she chirps.

 

I race up the stairs to Care and Dixon's apartment and slide open the door.

"My love!" Care says, rushing towards me. We hug for a long time and I squeeze her. "How're you holding up?"

"I've been better," I say, "but I'll be fine. How are you?"

"Fantastic," she says. "Can I tell her, Dix? Please, please, please, please please?"

Dixon smiles and nods. "Of course you can tell her."

"I'm pregnant!" Care says.

"You're pregnant?"

"Yes! I know it's the last thing one would expect but I've never been happier about any one thing in my life."

"You're pregnant!" I shout, hugging her again. We become a jumping, squealing mess in the middle of their living room and we only get crazier when Dixon joins us. "I'm an aunt again! Ah, I'm so excited! Please tell me you'll be those parents who shave their little boy's hair into mohawks and let their little girls dress like Audrey Hepburn."

"Well, considering we have no idea what our babies will look like, what with being half Chinese and half whatever he is, we'll have to see."

"I'm so happy!"

"We knew you would be," Dixon says.

"I'm not even more than a month along, I just had to tell someone because I know my mother is going to lose her shit so I needed someone to be excited with me, other than Dix, of course."

"Are you kidding? Of course I'm excited. Let's get on Amazon and buy all things baby right now!"

"Yes! I've been looking at little baby socks. Have you seen the socks, Clem? They're so tiny and cute."

"Are you really okay or are you deflecting stress?"

"Ah, you know my girl as well as I do," Dixon says, waving a wooden spoon in my direction. "She's deflecting."

"Well, when you're already the black sheep of the family and then you're just going to grow your wool out longer, you tend to get left out to pasture."

"No one is leaving you to pasture," I say. "This may not be what your mother wanted for you but she'll be fine with it once she sees how happy the two of you are and how loved this baby will be."

"You think? I think it'll be something like, 'For God's sake, Caroline! You can't do one thing by the book. You didn't finish college, you didn't meet a nice Chinese doctor and now you're pregnant with this generic white's child.' "

"She does call me a generic white," Dixon laughs.

"No," I say, "your mother will love the grand child, no matter what ethnicity the father is. If not, just pretend my mom is your mom because she loves all babies."

"Your mom does love all babies," Care says. "I suppose that's why she had so many."

"True," I say. "That, and we're all perfect little joys."

"You are indeed," Care says. "All right, now come sit and tell me all about your life."

We talk for hours while we eat and clean up the kitchen, and Dixon even leaves to meet a friend for a couple of drinks. I miss having Care around in my every day life, but I suppose it's better to begin the break now rather than when I move.

"I love this apartment and I know Dix does too," Care says, "but I don't know if there's enough space for us and a baby."

"You both should move back in with me," I say. "I'll be leaving it in a month or so when Morganstern decides on a place so you should just have it back. It's plenty big for one baby and you should be able to afford it."

"You say that," Care laughs. "I'm well aware you were charging me less than half your rent."

"I was happy to do so," I say. "I don't need the whole place to myself anyway, so just move back in and take the lease when I leave."

"You think Dix would go for that?"

"Please. He fell in love with you in that apartment. He'll move."

"It is in a better part of town."

"It is," I say. "And you can walk the kiddo right up the street to kindergarten."

"We could, couldn't we? When would we move?"

"Whenever," I say. "I've started packing already."

"You have?"

"Sadly. Moving on to a new state, geographically, professionally and emotionally."

Care leans her head on my shoulder. "We'll still see each other."

"I know," I say. "I just wish Morganstern would tell me where she wants to go."

"That would be helpful, wouldn't it?"

I nod absently as I stare at Dixon's collection of action figures, including one fashioned after Chris's Captain America.

"I miss you," Care says. "I hadn't realized how used I had gotten to finding long and curly red hair everywhere until I didn't find it every day."

"Haha, like the apartment smelling like body paint all the time was fun for me."

She laughs and slumps sideways onto the couch. "I can't believe I'm pregnant."

"You'll be a wonderful mother," I say. "I'm making the baby its first cosplay, you know."

"Can't wait," Care says, smiling sleepily at me.

 

I call Chris as I park my car. “Hey, prince."

“Hi, button,” Chris says, “how was your day?"

“Just fine,” I say. “A bit odd, actually."

“Yeah?"

“Yeah,” I answer. “I was working on a custom dress for a bride at the shop today when this other bride came in and knew everything about my dresses. That’s never happened before."

“Your work is getting the recognition it deserves,” Chris says. “That has to be exciting."

“It is,” I say. “Anyway, how was your day?"

I finally climb out of my car and head for the stairs in the garage.

“Great,” he says. “I took Mom out for dinner and now I’m at her house."

“That’s lovely,” I say. “You staying the night?"

“I think so,” he says. “She always likes it when I’m here."

“And I know she’ll make you a huge breakfast in the morning too,” I say.

“True,” Chris laughs. “I’ve asked for pancakes."

“I’m sure you did,” I say, sliding the key in my lock. “I had dinner with Care."

“Awe, Clem,” he says, “I bet that was great."

“It was,” I say, “and don’t tell anyone but she’s pregnant."

“That’s really fantastic! Are they happy?"

“Very,” I say, flicking on the light. “It’s going to be adorable."

“I didn’t know she wanted kids."

“She’s been mostly undecided,” I say. “Her mother is going to flip."

I pause in the middle of the living room. The door to Care’s former room is open and I’m sure I left it closed. Is the picture of me and Chris missing from the coffee table?

“Clem? Clem, are you there?"

“Yeah,” I say, “I’m here."

“Is everything all right?"

“I don’t know,” I answer, looking over my shoulder.

“Is that him? Are you on the phone with him?"

I yelp as Lola, the bride from the shop, runs out of my bedroom, her eyes wide and makeup smeared beneath them. Her outstretched hand shakes as she holds a knife pointed at me.

“Oh fuck, Chris. Call the cops!"

“It’ll be too late!” Lola — if that’s even her name — yells. I duck as she dives wildly, and I'm relieved to find she has no real aim. I bolt for the door but slip, my chin colliding painfully with the wood. Blood fills my mouth as my phone slips out of my hand and shatters on the floor. She’s got a horrible grip on my ankle but I manage to kick her in the nose. The knife falls and ends up being kicked under the media center by one of us, but I'm too panicked to celebrate.

It feels like several things happen all at once. She’s screaming at me as I run for the kitchen, but her legs are so much longer than mine she easily catches me wrapping her arm around my neck, her blood slickening my hair. There's a horrible crash and shards of the vase my grandmother sent from Ireland scatter across the floor. Twinges of pain ripple through my head... she broke the vase against my skull.

“You had to have him, didn’t you? He’s mine. You fucking bitch! You have everything and you had to have him, too!"

Losing breath, I claw at her arm and kick, my feet not even touching the ground. She digs her nails into my throat and I connect a heel with her calf. Dropping me, she screams and lunges again, and I dive behind the kitchen counter, landing on my wrist. I knocked over the knife block when I fell so I grab the butcher knife and roll over. Standing, I kick the rest of the knives behind me.

The glass cleaner sits on the counter where I left it earlier so I aim and shoot. She howls as her hands go to her eyes and I push, knocking her backwards.

“How the fuck did you get in my house?!"

Sirens wail in the distance and she groans.

“You don’t deserve him!” she screeches, running towards the empty room. Glass shatters and I sink to the floor by the counter.

Police officers and paramedics filter through my apartment; the neighbors pop their heads in to check but quickly leave. My injuries are examined, my statement is recorded, her knife is plucked from its resting place, photographs are taken and I am so relieved when Care rushes through the door.

"Oh my God, what happened?"

"Some woman broke in," I answer as a paramedic wraps my wrist. The other paramedic stands behind the couch, readying supplies for my head. I'm not exactly pleased they have to shave part of my hair. "She was really mad at me for being with Chris and she attacked."

"Are you okay?"

"Scared shitless, mostly," I say. "Wounds will heal."

She brushes her fingers through my curls. "Is this her blood or yours?"

"Hers, I think," I say. "It's hard to say."

"Damage?"

"My phone is dead. Both windows in your room are shattered. I have to wash all my knives again."

"I mean you," she says.

"Oh," I say, "sprained wrist, busted lip, bumps, bruises and scratches."

"Glass embedded in her skin," the paramedic adds.

"Yeah, that too."

"What?"

"She shattered the vase from Maimeó," I say, "on my head."

"Shit."

"It doesn't hurt so much now."

"Shock," the paramedic says. "The good thing is, is it's not a concussion. You should also know she clocked you on the side so it'll be easy to just cover the wounds with your hair."

"That is good," Care says.

"Would you please text Chris and tell him I'm okay?"

"I will," she says. "He was so worried when he called."

"He called you?" I wince when the paramedic by my head starts sewing my skin back together.

"He had me and 911 on the line at the same time," Care says. "You can borrow my phone to call him when you're ready."

"This woman, Leah Hawthorne, has threatened you before?" Detective Taylor asks, holding a picture of Lola. It was taken today in the salon and I'm upset I didn't notice it earlier. She was the person who sent me death threats most often, only now she's bleached her hair.

"Yes," I answer. “She’s changed her hair and gave a fake name today. I have copies of everything she sent, and my lawyer has them as well."

"You'll want to call her," Detective Taylor says, "your lawyer, I mean."

"Yes, sir," I say.

"Do you have somewhere else to stay?"

"You can stay with us," Care says.

"Can I leave town for a few days? I mean, I'll come back if you find her, but I'd actually like to get out of here."

"You can be back the day we need you?"

I nod.

"That'll be fine," he says, "just make sure all of your information is correct with my partner so we can contact you."

"All right," the paramedic says, "you'll want to keep this wrapped tightly for two weeks. If the pain gets worse, go see a doctor because the sprain could be more severe. Your chin will be sore but it's already scabbing over and keep your neck wounds clean. Try to keep the bandages dry tonight — you should be able to take them off in the morning and leave them off. See your primary care provider to get the stitches removed in a week to ten days. You'll be fine."

"Thank you," I say.

"Of course."

"You want to call Chris now?" Care asks.

I nod. "Harrison is on his way with the plane. I hope Chris doesn't mind."

"Please," Care laughs. "He'll feel much better to know you're safe."

"Okay," I say. Waiting for him to pick up is agonizing.

"Care, what is it? What's happening?"

"It's me."

"Oh God, Clem. What the hell happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm okay," I answer. "One of the women threatening me from the Internet found me."

"Are you serious?"

"Very," I say. "She attacked me and then jumped out the window."

"Jumped out the window?"

"Yes," I say. "The cops don't think it'll take long to find her because she'll probably go to a hospital."

"I bet," he says. "What about you?"

"Only minor injuries," I say. "Listen, is it all right if I come stay with you for a few days? I don't want to bother Care and Dixon but I don't want to stay here alone, either."

"Button, you can come here anytime you like. Do you need a plane ticket? Did you call Harrison?"

"He's on his way," I say. "I figured if you didn't want me, I'd just fly home."

"No! No, of course I want you! I actually tried to call Harrison myself to see if he would take me to you. There aren't any planes out of Boston left but then I figured I could drive."

"Oh Chris," I sigh, "you don't need to drive here for me."

"I know I don't need to," he says, "I wanted to drive there for you."

"Okay," I say. "Anyway, Harrison should be landing in an hour. Does your mom mind keeping all of us for the night?"

"Of course not," he says. "She'll insist on it, actually."

"I think they're about to release me," I say. "Care will get me to the airport and I'll call you when I take off."

"Sounds perfect," he says. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will," I say. "Love you."

"Love you."

I call my landlord to let him know about the damage and that I'll be absent so he can fix the windows whenever. Care sweeps up the glass once the cops are finished taking pictures and we cover both windows with extra sheets. It'll do for now. I also call Mrs. Morganstern to let her know I'll be out of the office tomorrow and most likely Monday.

Packing my bag, I shrug when I look around. They told me not to leave any valuables behind but my entire collection filling the shelves is valuable to me. The landlord said he would come first thing in the morning to assess the damage of the windows and get them replaced, so I have to hope my apartment is only accessible for a few short hours. All the same, we pack my best records, comics and most treasured books in a box. Care carries my three sewing machines to her car while I pack my bag.

“She hasn’t turned up yet,” Detective Taylor says, “but she will. Do you have any other questions or concerns?"

“No, thank you,” I say.

“Here’s my card,” he says. “We can’t keep a man on your apartment all night but we can keep a car in the area to check on things."

“That would be great,” I say. “Thank you for everything."

“Of course,” he says. “I’ll call when we have something."

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re free to go then,” he says. “Leah wouldn’t know where you’re going, would she?"

“No,” I say. “I wouldn’t think so."

“Since she truly jumped out the window, she’s likely to have a broken leg or something similar so she can’t run for long. We’ll get her."

I nod as he leaves, taking his partner and another cop with him.

“You ready to go?” Care asks. “Harrison should be there by the time we get to the airport."

“Yeah,” I answer. “Thank you for being here."

“You know there’s no where else I would be right now,” she says. “I just want to make sure you’re all right."

Harrison runs off the plane as soon as it lands on the tarmac. “My God, Clemmie! What happened?"

“I’ll tell you about it later,” I say, hugging him. “Can we get in the air?"

“Of course,” he says. “We can call Chris from the plane."

“Thank you for doing this,” I say. “Are you sure you don’t mind?"

“Nope,” he says, taking my bag from me. “Anything else?"

“Can I take my machine? Just one of them?"

“Yes,” he says. “Which one?"

“The one in the purple case,” i say. “It’s my best one."

“I’ll take care of everything else for you,” Care says. “Me and Dix will watch it faithfully until you come back."

“Thank you,” I say. “I love you, boo, and baby boo."

Care laughs and hugs me tightly. “I love you, too! Call me tomorrow if you’re not tired of talking to people."

“I’m never tired of talking to you,” I say.

“All right-y,” Harrison says, “I’m good if you’re good."

“I’m good,” I say. “Let’s go."

I sit up front with Harrison since we’re in the smaller plane today. It’s later so most of the commercial flights are finished for the evening, and the winds are in our favor. Harrison can’t believe what happened when I tell him, and he’s more than relieved I got out of St. Louis.

“Boston looks good tonight,” Harrison says, the lights stretching all around. “Perfect weather for landing."

“What a relief,” I say. “Thanks again for bringing me."

“Clem,” Harrison says, “I know you’re grateful, just like Care knows and just like Chris knows. You don’t have to thank us all the time."

“I’m sorry, I’m just really relieved you’re all able to do this."

“We love you, sis. It’s what we do. You would do the same for us, if not more, if the roles were reversed."

We’re cleared to land and Harrison sets the plane down with no problem, and we’re directed to the parking spot. We take our bags and I jump into Chris's arms as soon as Harrison opens the door. We kiss for a few seconds and both our cheeks are wet.

"Clem!" he coos, squeezing me. "Oh God! I've never been more terrified in my life."

"I'm okay," I say. "A little shocked but okay."

"Okay, Clementine? There's blood in you hair, bandages on your face and your arm is all wrapped up."

"That's not even all the blood. Care wiped me down. They told me not to shower until the morning."

"Shit." He hisses, putting my feet on the ground. He rests his hands on his hips and bends over. "Fucking shit."

"Look, I'm okay. They're going to catch her and she'll go to prison. I'll get a restraining order and it'll be fine. Can we go?"

"Yeah," he says, looking past me to Harrison. They exchange greetings and we pile into Chris's car. Nobody talks the entire ride to Lisa's house; Chris just keeps his hand on my leg.

Lisa greets us in the door of the garage, her robe wrapped tightly around her.

"Are you all right, Clementine?" she asks softly, looking at my face.

"I'll be fine," I answer. "Sorry for keeping you up so late."

"Don't even think about it, darling," she says. "Come inside, all of you."

She's made fresh chocolate chip cookies and has glasses of milk. Chris gets beers for himself and Harrison after I decline. We settle in her living room, and I tell the story again.

Lisa cuddles my head gently and kisses an uninjured part of it. "Goodness, Clementine. She sounds awful. I'm very glad your injuries aren't worse."

"Me, too," I say.

"Well," she says, "you're welcome to stay as long as you like. As you know, the community is gated with a very active neighborhood watch and I'll set the alarm. You have nothing to worry about."

"I know," I say. "Thank you for having us and for the much needed cookies."

"Of course, precious one," she says. "I'm going to bed now. I'll see you all in the morning for pancakes."

"Sounds wonderful," Harrison says. "Thanks."

"Good night," Lisa says, hugging each of us before we go to bed. "I love you all."

"You ready to go to bed?" Chris asks, rubbing my back. "You must be worn out."

"Yeah, let's go to bed."

Harrison takes Scott's old room while Chris and I settle into his. I borrow an old T-shirt because I still feel dirty and don't want to have to wash my pajamas.

"Are you upset with me?" I ask, my back towards Chris.

"What? No!" He answers. "I just can't believe this happened. How are you?"

"I'm glad to be here with you," I answer. "I feel safe here."

"I'm glad," he says, finally rolling over and curving his body so it matches mine. "I'm just so sorry it happened."

"It's not your fault you're so lovable and handsome," I say. "I mean, at least everything worked out the way it did. I can't image what would have happened if Dorota or Care had been there. She picked the very best time to make her move."

"That's certainly one way to look at it," he says. "I'm glad you're mostly okay."

"Me, too."

He kisses my cheek before settling behind me.

 

I roll over knowing I need to make a call. Chris’s side of the bed is cold but his phone sits on the nightstand. Taking a deep breath, I dial Mrs. Morganstern. She’s not the first person I really want to talk to this morning, but it’s time.

Lisa and Harrison are watching some morning talk show over coffee and pancakes when I make it downstairs, and she passes me a mug.

"Did you sleep all right?" she asks.

"Very good," I answer. "Where's Chris?"

"The basement," she answers. "He probably wouldn't mind if you interrupt him."

I nod as Harrison hands me half a banana. I scratch an itch on my head as I descend the stairs, and I hear him before I see him.

Chris dances on the stage, his taps echoing off the floor. His back is to me so I don't say anything, not wanting to spoil it. I haven't ever seen him tap in person, and it's fun to watch, even when he's in boxer briefs and a T-shirt.

I finish my banana while I watch, and he turns around, swinging his arms wide.

"Morning, chief," I say. "Sorry to bother whatever you're working through there."

He bites his lip and scratches the back of his neck. "I think we should break up."


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. Thanks for reading!

I know if your heart stops, you're dead, but in that split second I have died. The shock of cold runs through my nerves and I gasp.

"No."

"No? I'm breaking up with you and you're saying no? That's not how this works."

"That's not how this works?" I ask, blood now boiling in my veins. I climb over the back of the couch and stand toe to toe with him, feeling just as tall even though I can see up his nose. "No, Chris. That's not how this works. Do you have an actual reason? Like I'm a controlling bitch or the sex is bad or you've met someone new or even something little like you don't like the way I fix my hair? If this is just some bullshit about my safety, I don't want it."

"If something worse happens to you because of me, I could never live with myself, Clemmie. I would never forgive myself."

"It's over, Chris," I say. "The worst of that is over. The one person who would ever even think to act on a threat has already done it. I can guarantee you no one else will try anything. I will take a self defense class. I'll get a taser if that'll make you feel better. Don't dump me over some stupid attack."

"It's not stupid, Clem," he says softly, looking down at the floor. "You don't know what it was like knowing something was happening and not being able to do anything about it. She was there because of her perceived notion of me."

"You dumbfuck."

Chris looks sharply at me, his brow furrowed. My outburst caught him off guard.

"So what? She was there because of you? She was also there because something isn't right in her brain. It takes a lot to break into someone's house with intent to kill or injure, and she had been planning it for awhile. I don't know what it's like to hear something like that happening, but I do know what it's like to be choked while you think you're never going to see anybody again. I thought I wasn't going to see my family, Care and Dixon and their beautiful baby, the people I work with, even that dickhole Chip, and you — of course you. You're my reason to keep fighting. I sprayed her eyes with glass cleaner, Chris! Glass cleaner! Do not be worried about my physical safety. Be worried about how you make me feel when you, the person I love most in the world, attempt to make me feel so small by saying the possible guilt you could feel sometime in the future is worse than the love you currently feel for me. That's really shitty, Chris. I should dump you for that."

He closes his eyes and exhales loudly. "I am a dumbfuck."

"That's true."

He snorts. "Clem, I just mean if I can protect you from future harm by not being with you, then I should not be with you."

"I know, and I can appreciate the gesture but it's stupid."

Laughing, he takes my hands. "It is stupid. I'm stupid for ever thinking that was a good idea. My little flame would never be put out under such circumstances." He gently rubs his fingers through my matted hair. "Can you forgive me?"

"Yes, but don't ever use something like this to dump me again."

"Noted. I just want you to be safe when you go home, like let's get an alarm put in, and maybe like a pitbull or German sheperd."

"I'm not going home," I say. "I mean, not for more than it takes to pack up my things."

"What?"

"That's what I was coming down here to tell you, you big goof. I just got off the phone with Morganstern. I pitched Boston as my wild card in her five towns, and it made it to the top three. I told her today I am moving here regardless, so she might as well move the business with me. She hasn't decided yet but I made some compelling arguments and the space we found for an office is amazing. It's better here than any of the others. Yeah, your mom has been helping me, too. I'm closer to New York this way, and flights home are slightly shorter. It's really not a bad plan, all things considered. I don't have Dorota anymore so I don't have to worry about her adjusting — not that I really would have had to — she adjusted easily. Now that Care's pregnant, she'll soon be all baby all the time which is great but it'll be different for us and they can take the apartment. She'll be moving on, and I'll be here with you."

"You'll be here in Boston," he says, a grin spreading up his face.

"Yes," I say. "We can go apartment hunting today."

"You want an apartment?"

"Your mom has offered me a room temporarily," I say.

"You don't want to live with me?"

"I mean, that would be ideal, but I didn't want to invite myself into your house and you haven't asked."

"Fucking hell, Clem! Move in with me. Please move in with me. It would be my honor and privilege for you to move in with me. You can even redecorate. Please move in with me."

"Okay, I accept."

"You're moving in?"

"Yes."

Chris picks me up, his feet clacking as he spins around.

"You're moving in!" He grins as he kisses me. My lip and chin don't even feel any pain.

"And to think you were going to break up with me."

"I know, and it was stupid."

"Nobody's perfect."

We're both grinning from ear to ear as he slides his hands from my back to my rear. I grin as I kiss him, threading my fingers through his hair.

"I do love you, you know," I say.

"More than I deserve," he says.

"Just the right amount," I say, tracing his lip with my finger. We both feel it then, looking at each other.

Taking the few steps to the wall, he pushes my back against it as I wrap my legs around his hips.

"Let me know if something hurts," he says, his lips against my neck. I nod as I slip my hand between us and push the front of his underwear down enough so his dick pops against my shirt. I pulled on a pair of his boxers before coming downstairs, and he easily fits right up the leg hole. He grunts as he slides inside me, and I hum with appreciation. I lean my head on the wall and slip my hand to my clit while he thrusts. Our eyes meet when he rests his forehead against mine, and I smile.

It's like fireworks when I come, and I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck. He finishes seconds later and kisses me.

"Let's fight and you call me an idiot more often," he says. "That was fun."

"That was fun," I say. "You still okay with me moving in?"

"Call the truck right now!" He says.

"Breakfast first," I say. "I skipped it to come check on you and now I'm even hungrier."

"And don't take this the wrong way," he says, "but you need a shower."

"I do," I say. "Crusty blood is really gross. And I need you to diagnose my head."

"Maybe you should let Mom do that," he says. "Do I have to put you down?"

"No," I say. "Just tuck yourself back in your boxers and carry me up the stairs like this. It'll be funny."

"Like my mother hasn't already figured out what we're doing down here."

"I think she knew what your intentions were," I say. "She may not know exactly what we were doing if she thought you were dumping me."

"I think my mother also knows you have enough sense to not buy that."

"I mean, seriously though, do you want to break up with me? You can, you know, if you want. I don't want to be that person that trapped you a relationship and then you grow to resent me."

"Clem, I don't," he says, "honestly. I'm worried about you, what could happen to you, but you're right. It's stupid to break up over something that may never be an issue. And I am excited for you to move in. That'll be great."

"I think so, too."

He kisses me again before putting me on the ground. "Let's get breakfast."

Chris kicks off his tap shoes and chases me up the stairs.

"You two look happy," Harrison says.

"I'm moving to Boston!"

"You are, for sure?" Lisa asks, standing up.

I nod. "Morganstern may or may not be bringing her business here, but I will be here."

"That's wonderful news," she says, kissing my cheek as she hugs me. "I've been looking and I think I found you a better space."

"You did?"

"Yes," she says. "It's in Boston proper, but it's absolutely beautiful."

"If Mrs. Morganstern wants to move here, that would be excellent."

"But you're moving here either way?" Lisa asks.

"Yes," I answer.

"And she's moving in with me."

"That's great!" Lisa says, hugging me again. "I'm so excited."

"Thanks, ma," Chris says.

"This'll be a fun adventure," Lisa says. "Look at you, my son, all grown up."

"Mom," Chris whines as she cups his face with her hands.

"I know," Lisa says. "I just feel really good about this."

"I do too," I say.

"Breakfast?"

"Yes, please," Chris says, pulling out a chair for me.

After we eat and I shower, Chris stands behind me as I look in the mirror.

"What's the damage?"

"Five gashes, three with stitches," Chris answers. "They shaved very little though so you should be okay."

"How much is very little?"

"Like, so little it's not noticeable."

"I guess I'll just let it air dry then."

"Probably wise."

"That girl didn't have finger nails," I say, lifting my bruised and scabbed chin. "She had claws. I look like I lost a fight with Lady Deathstrike."

"She really did scratch you up pretty good," Chris says. "Does it hurt?"

"Not my neck, really," I say. "My head and my chin hurt worse but the Advil should kick in soon."

"Clem," Harrison says, popping around the corner, "Mom and Dad are on the phone."

"Together?"

He nods. "They want to talk to you."

He drops his phone in my hand.

"Hello," I say.

"Clemmie!" Dad says.

"Clementine!" Mom says. "How are you? Are you all right? What happened?"

"I'm fine, Mom," I answer. "I have some minor injuries but I'll recover. I haven't heard from the detectives today but I'm sure they'll find the woman. My landlord texted that he got the windows fixed."

"All good news," Dad says. "How do you feel?"

"I feel okay," I answer. "A little shocked."

"I bet," Mom says. "Listen, are you staying in Boston for the weekend?"

"Probably," I answer. "I'll go back to St. Louis if the police want me there."

"Can we come see you?" Mom asks. "I'd just feel better if we could check on you."

"You don't have to check on me," I say. "I'm fine, I promise."

"We know," Dad says, "but we'd really like to see you. Harrison said he can fly us up there when Tobes gets out of school. We can stay in a hotel so we won't even be in the way."

"Do they want come here?" Chris asks softly. I nod. "They're welcome to stay with us."

I giggle because they will be staying with us, in our house. I mean, it's still Chris's house but I'll be living in it.

"Okay," I say. "Chris invites you to stay at his house."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, he would be happy to have you."

"That's wonderful," Dad says.

"They can bring the dogs if they want," Chris says.

"And Chris extends the invitation to Arwen, Atreyu and Max."

"We can bring the babies?" Mom asks. "Oh, that is spectacular. Of course we'll leave Peabody and Antonella here, but we would love to bring the dogs."

"They're coming, dogs in tow," I say to Chris. 

He winks in the mirror and kisses my cheek. "I'll go tell Mom."

"All right," I say, "so we'll expect you for dinner tonight?"

"That will be great," Dad says. "Can't wait to see Boston again. D'you think we can stop by Fenway?"

"I think Chris would like that," I say. "I'll tell him."

"And your sure it's not a problem to stay with him?" Mom asked. "We don't want to be a burden."

"It's not," I say. "In fact you may want to get used to the idea."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes," I say, "I'm moving in with him."

"I have my reservations about that," Mom says.

"I know you do," I say. "I still have my own line of credit, my own bank account, my lawyer, and I still know how to change a tire. I am still my own person."

"Well, as long as you keep your own credit and accounts," she says. "You don't want to be one of those women who is completely devastated if things fall apart."

"Yes, Mom," I say. "You taught me well. I'll be fine and we're not combining our assets yet."

"Good, good," Mom says. "You have to take care of yourself, you know."

"I know, Mom."

"Well, I think it's great," Dad says. "He's one of the good ones."

"I know that, too," I say. "Anyway, I should see how the plans are going and we'll have to buy some stuff for the dogs. See you tonight."

"We love you and we're very happy you're all right," Dad says.

"Love you, too," I say.

"So?" Harrison asks, coming into the bathroom now that he's changed clothes.

"They're coming and you're supposedly going to pick them up."

"I am," Harrison says. "I humbly offered my services."

"That's very sweet of you."

"I am a dear, aren't I?"

"Of course," I say. "Chris doesn't want to hurt my feelings so I need an honest opinion. How bad does my head look?"

Harrison laughs as he stands behind me and lifts up strands of my hair. "Sheesh. It's a mess back here."

"It is?"

"Yes," Harrison says. "You've got thousands upon thousands of these long, curling ginger hairs. However do you function?"

I laugh. "Seriously though, how does it look?"

"A little messy," he answers. "She really didn't shave much though and you've got so much hair it should be easy to cover up."

"Thank you," I say. "That's all I needed before I went and shaved it all off."

"You would never shave your head," Harrison says.

"True," I say. "I remember you bald. We Rogers do not have pretty heads."

"Very true," he says. "Thankfully my gorgeous brown bristles came back thicker than ever."

“Thankfully they did."

"Clem, you wanted my honest opinion, so I have a serious question."

"Yes?"

"Do you really want to move in with Chris or are you just afraid?"

"I really do want to move in with Chris," I say. "I was very frightened to find a strange woman in my apartment, but I am not afraid. Your sister has a lot of fight, you know."

"I know," Harrison says. "I just wanted to make sure. It's my duty and honor to check on you."

"I'm very glad you do," I say. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Harrison says, hugging me. "And for what it's worth, I like the two of you together. It makes perfect since to me if you were going to end up somebody, it would be Captain America."

I laugh. "He may not be able to fly but he's certainly a very good human being."

"All right," he says. "I think I'll take off after lunch because I'll have to bring the big plane back."

"Sounds like a plan," I say. "Thanks for bringing them."

"Of course."

 

I press my nose into Chris's chest as the plane soars overhead and touches down.

"Thank you for having them here," I say. "That's very kind."

"Of course," he says. "My house is your house."

“I like that,” I say.

“I do, too,” he says. The plane rounds the corner as one of the small airport attendants directs Harrison into his parking spot. The attendant opens the door and the dogs are the first ones off with Tobias skipping behind them.

“Clemmie!” Tobias says, hugging me. “How’s your chin?"

“It’s fine,” I say. “How was your trip?"

“Great!” he says. “Hi, Christopher-schmistopher."

“Hey Tobes,” Chris says. “How’s baseball?"

“Good! I hit a home run last week."

“Excellent, bud! We’ll have to come watch you play some time."

“That’d be cool,” Tobias says.

“Hi Dad,” I say, hugging him.

“Good evening, Clem,” he says. “Are you doing all right?"

I nod as Mom grabs my face and tilts my chin up to the light. “Oh my gosh! How are you? This looks horrible. I brought you some ointment to ease the pain and reduce the scarring. It smells awful but really does the trick."

“Thanks, Mom."

Chris hugs them both and then we pile into his car. “My mother wanted to make dinner for everyone. I think my sisters will be there too."

“That will be nice,” Dad says. “I would very much like to meet your family."

“I think if we go to Fenway,” Chris says, “my dad will tag along for that. He loves baseball."

“How long have your parents been divorced?"

“How old am I?” Chris asks, scratching the side of his face. “Twelve years, I think? My youngest sister had finished high school. They’re better apart."

“Marriage takes a lot of work,” Mom says. “A lot of forgiveness."

“Emily,” Dad says softly, taking her hand. Chris reaches across the middle console and squeezes my fingers.

“What is there to do in Boston?" Tobias asks, Atreyu's head blocking my brother from view.

"There's a lot to do in Boston," Chris says. "It's practically the birthplace of American History."

"Are there canons?"

"There are," Chris says. "There are museums all over the place. We can go to some if you want, or you can visit this summer and we can do the whole tour."

"Could I?"

"Of course," Chris says. "We would have a great time."

They then continue into a history lesson where Dad and Harrison chip in, and before long, Chris pulls into Lisa’s driveway.

"Tobes, would you mind helping me get the dogs in the backyard?"

"Yes!" And off they go with the three dogs running ahead of them.

Lisa opens the front door, much like she did the day I met her, and smiles.

"Rogers family, welcome!"

I smile as I hug her and introduce her to my parents, and then we go inside. Chris and Tobias come in the back door, and Tobias freezes when he sees everyone in the kitchen. He’s quickly introduced to all of Chris’s family and settles in with Harrison, Shana, and Shana’s new boyfriend. Mom and Dad sit with Lisa and they’re quickly absorbed in talk of art.

“This is going well,” Chris says, holding a sleeping Beth in his arms. “I mean, I didn’t think it wouldn’t, but it’s nice that it is."

“Your mom and my dad get along with everybody,” I say. “Mom likes your mom because of art so she respects her. Now Mom really liking you is a different question."

“What? Why do you say that?"

“Because I’m moving into your house that you’ve paid for with your earnings and what does that make me?"

“My girlfriend?"

“Yes, but everything there is yours, isn’t it? That’s what she has a problem with."

“Well, we can buy a new house together if that would make her feel better."

“Please,” I say, “we’re not buying a new house to assuage my mother."

“I don’t want her to not like me."

“It’ll just take her getting used to the idea. I think she’ll like this better than us getting engaged first and then just getting married. Moving in is more progressive, isn’t it?"

“I guess so,” he says. “Why did she get married when she did?"

I can’t answer because Lisa calls us all to dinner, and we circle around her big table. The food is delicious and Mom seems to lose her reservations as her glass is never empty.

Shana and her boyfriend take the kids downstairs to play pingpong and Harrison goes with them. Chris kisses my cheek in passing as we clear off the table and Carly washes the dishes. When the kitchen and dining room are sorted, we find our parents have moved to the living room, leaving the love seat open for us.

"So you're moving in together," Mom says. "Then what?"

I only thought she had given up on it because of the alcohol. "Eventually we'll either get married or break up. Those are the pragmatic options since we both want to get married at some point."

"That's thinking very practically," Dad says. "You don't have to be practical."

"There are little things in between to enjoy," Chris says. "It's not all about being practical."

"Would there be children?" Dad asks.

"God willing," Chris answers, and I giggle wishing I could hide my red cheeks.

"Good, good," Dad says. "We obviously like children."

"Oh, I do too," Lisa laughs. "I think it's wonderful. I've been praying a long time for Chris to find the right woman."

"No pressure," Chris quips. I push my bangs away as I laugh.

"I want Clementine to be happy," Mom says. "I want all my children to be happy. I am profoundly glad she has her own career and can provide for herself, but I do like this. You two take care of each other."

"We try," I say, leaning my head against Chris's chest. He's very warm and soft in the best way.

"Hey, button," Chris whispers. "It's time to go."

"Huh?" I ask, sitting up.

The living room is dim now and our parents are gathered by the door. Beth and Ethan are both asleep in Carly and Ben's arms, and Tobias yawns happily when he seems me.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep," I say. "That's rude, isn't it?"

"You've had a hard couple of days," Chris says. "Nobody minded."

I stretch as I straighten up, and I can't help myself but to lean over and kiss him. He smiles and rubs my back.

"Our bed awaits."

"I like the sound of that," I say.

Goodbyes are said and hugs are shared, and then my family takes the trip back to Chris's house, the dogs stretched across laps. We give Tobias the basement so he can watch TV or play video games all night, Harrison takes the brown room and Dad is literally thrilled to be in the lavender room.

Somewhat more awake now, I change into my nightie and ready myself for bed. Chris stands at his sink, applying his moisturizer. I wrap my arms around his slim abdomen and kiss his spine. I press my lips to his shoulder blade and then one of his moles.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, turning around in the circle of my arms.

I kiss his chest. “I’m thinking I love how you are with my parents.” I kiss another patch of skin. "I'm thinking I love how you are with my siblings." His sternum. "I'm thinking I love how much you love your mom and siblings." A little lower. "I'm thinking I love how you can admit when you're being an ass." His navel. "I'm thinking I love how you take care of me." I sink to my knees, tug his boxer briefs down just enough and kiss his happy trail. "And I'm thinking about how much I want you in my mouth."

"Oh. Thinking all those wonderful things. You sure you don't have a concussion?"

I wink at him as I push his boxers down. His cock is hard and the tip is the prettiest shade of pink. Running my lip between my teeth, I wrap my right hand around his thigh. His fingers curl into my hair as he leans back against the counter.

"Be gentle with my head," I say. "Stitches, remember?"

“I’ll be gentle with your head, you be gentle with mine."

"Deal."

He tastes like salt and sunshine, and I feel him struggling not to move his hips. It's really sexy knowing that I have the power to make him act this way. Of course that goes away when he accidentally tugs painfully on my hair so I bite just enough to snap him out of his thoughtless bliss.

"Shit, I'm sorry!"

I drag my tongue up the underside of his cock so he knows I accept his apology, and his fingers wrap tightly around the edge of the marble.

"That... feels... so... good!" His abdomen moves quickly in front of my eyes and I poise myself for the big release. "Clem!"

But I don't back off this time like the other few times, and I swallow everything he has to offer.

"Holy shit." He opens his eyes as I pop up and wipe my lips with my thumb. Grabbing my face, he shoves his tongue in my mouth. It's not the response I was expecting, but I'll definitely take it.

"May I return the favor?" He asks, dropping a hand between us and rubbing my thigh.

"According to Samantha Jones, the best reason to give is to receive."

Chris laughs as he spins us around and pins my hips against the counter. He nibbles my ear and kisses my neck, his hand greedily groping my thigh. Nuzzling each breast with his nose, he gently rubs my clit with his finger, circling delicately. He drops to his knees, kisses my ankle and tosses my leg over his shoulder.

My fingers curl in his hair as he presses his lips against my clit, and I moan as he slides a finger inside me. He moves torturously slow but it feels so I good I don’t mind. He withdraws his finger and kisses everything, his beard brushing against my skin.

“Chris!” I squeal when his lips press against another much more private hole he’s never ventured near. He’s massaging the tight hole with his tongue while his fingers return to my g-spot. I practically fall over when the tip of his tongue breaches the tiny hole. Grabbing the counter with my un-sprained hand, I gasp as the very tip of his finger replaces his tongue. “Fuck."

I hear him chuckle as his finger moves in and out slowly and his lips return to my clitoris. It’s too much and a cry escapes my lips as my muscles clench quickly. He doesn’t stop moving his finger and his mouth returns to my clit after a few seconds.

My legs give out when my second orgasm hits, a tsunami crashing against the shore. Tremors run through my body as he cradles me in his arms. He kisses me between smiles and I open my eyes when my breaths even out.

“You like that, button?"

“Surprisingly yes. I’m still shaking."

“I haven’t done that in a long time."

“I guess I’m honored then. You’re very good at that."

“Have you ever, uh, have you ever —"

“Had anal sex? Once, and it was very painful. I’ve kept myself at a safe distance ever since."

“Painful?"

“I ended up crying every time I had to poop for at least three days. It was that kind of painful. And yes, there was lube, and no, he wasn’t abnormally large. It just hurt."

“Oh."

“I mean, I can go get a wine bottle and we can shove it up your ass and you can tell me how you feel."

“Clemmie!"

“Sorry,” I say. “It was very unpleasant. I got absolutely nothing out of aside from pain so I would really like not to repeat it."

“Okay."

“Is it something you enjoy?"

“Yes."

“Huh."

“Huh,” he repeats. “Can you stand up now?"

“Yes, thank you,” I say, pulling myself out of his lap. “I can’t believe we did that and my parents are fifteen feet away."

“There are doors and walls,” Chris says, “and we had sex this morning with my mom just up the stairs."

“That’s true,” I say. “I may not like anal sex but you’re definitely allowed to do what you did."

“I’ll keep that in mind."

“Thank you,” I say. “I need to brush my teeth and wash my face."

“I suppose I should do that again, too."

We tidy up after our little escapade and I pull down the hem of my silky short nightgown only to have Chris pull it up again as he cups my bum.

“How do you feel to be in the bathroom of your new home?"

“I feel really good,” I say. “It’s beautiful. You're here, too, which is nice."

“It is nice, isn’t it? I love you, Clementine."

“I love you, too, Christopher. We should really get to bed though because Dad will want to get up super early to do things and your mom and my mom will cause all kinds of trouble if we leave them unattended."

“That’s true. To bed!” He swings his arms beneath me and carries me out of the bathroom. “How’s your head?"

“Okay,” I anser. “Will you still love me if I have goopy smelly brown junk on my chin and neck?"

“Only if I can put it on you,” he says.

“Deal,” I say as he sets me on what is now officially my side of the bed. I pass him the little jar Mom supplied and he frowns when he opens it.

“Smelly, you weren’t kidding."

“Nope,” I say. I hold my chin out as he gently spreads the goop all over my wounds. “It should harden shortly."

“What is it?"

“I don’t want to know,” I say. Chris is looking at my face with a certain earnestness, and it’s really quite breathtaking to just feel his gaze. I kiss him softly and what pain I do feel subsides.

"Thank you for not letting me dump you," he says softly, brown gunk still covering his fingers.

"Thank you for being here for me," I say, resting my forehead against his. He kisses me again, and before I know it, we're having lazy but passionate and endearing sex while my parents are across the hall.


	14. Chapter 14

Harrison is flying Mom, Dad and Tobias home tonight, and Chris and I have tickets on a commercial flight in the morning. The police apprehended Leah just after midnight when she finally went to a hospital for help. She'll be treated overnight and then I'll have to pick her out of a lineup. Chris cleared all of his meetings for the week to go back to St. Louis with me, and I'll be packing up.

Yesterday was a great day for our families. Aside from Dad and Robert disagreeing on the best pitcher in the MLB, they got along great. Lisa and Mom toured Lisa's theater, and Lisa throws a fit when she learns I can high step. Maimeó demanded one of the children carry the Irish heritage so the burden fell on me, and it's a practice not forgotten once learned. This resulted in an impromptu recital in Lisa's basement, but I made Chris tap for everyone as well.

"Clementine," Mom says, "may I have a word?"

"Of course," I say, sitting up. Chris and I had been watching TV in the living room, and I had my head in his lap so he could gently play with my hair. "You want to take a walk?"

"That will work, sweetheart," she says. Chris rubs my back for a second and I smile as I leave him. I tug on my jacket and follow Mom out the door. "He has a lovely home."

“It is beautiful, isn't it?" I say, admiring the tree in the front yard. "We're going to redecorate a bit. I was actually wondering if we could maybe get a piece from you."

"Of course!" she says. "I would love that."

"Thank you," I say. "Just please don't paint either of us in any state of undress."

"Liv loves that painting of your brother, you know."

"As do I," I say. "We're not married or haven't decided to call this a long-term thing, so we'd rather not have that just yet."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," she says. "Marriage."

"Okay?"

"He's going to ask you," she says. "He hasn't asked your father yet but something tells me that he will, this one. I know you love him and the life you could build together could certainly be wonderful, but we've been through this before with you."

"Mom, you know what Chris and I have is so different from Justin."

"I know,” she says, "I know that, sweetheart. I can see the way you two are and how much more _you_ you are with Chris. I do want you to proceed with caution though. Obviously being with him in any capacity is very different from being with someone who is not in the spotlight, and your life will change more than it already has." She takes my hand in hers as we reach the first cross street and places it along her forearm. "I feel the need to protect you, Clementine, more than your siblings. Tobias and Harrison are my babies, of course, but you're our little sweet child. I know things were rough after I let you all down, but you were the one who held everything together. You were certainly the first to forgive me and I suspect you have something to do with the fact Oswald even talks to me."

"You're our mother," I say. "If Dad can forgive you, we can too. He makes mistakes too, you know."

"We all do," she says. "Chris will."

"He already has," I laugh, "but so have I."

"You, make a mistake? Never."

"Chris has pointed it out I'm very independent," I say, "almost too independent. Independence is good but there's a point, especially when you're in a relationship. I have to remind myself that he actually wants to be with me, whatever is happening."

"Of course he wants to be with you," she says. "You're practically perfect in every possible way."

I lean my head on her shoulder as I giggle, and she pats my hand.

"I just want to be sure you're happy, healthy and safe, Clementine," she says. "I think that you are in very capable hands, and I'm glad you've got things going for yourself. How do you feel about it?"

"I feel really good," I say. “I know I don’t need him, but I feel better when he's around. He's always encouraged my art and doesn't expect me to give up my career. He's accepted all of us into his life and he loves all of your children, not as much as we love each other of course, but he loves them. It's like the world is more colorful around him."

"Clementine," she says softly. "I don't doubt your love for each other. I just want you to be careful. Sometimes in life you do have to throw caution in the wind but a forever situation, a marriage, deserves a bit more contemplation. You wear your heart on your sleeve, dear heart, and I don't want to see it squeezed again."

"Chris wears his heart on his sleeve even more than I do," I say. "He won't squeeze."

"Well, he's squeezing something from the sounds of it."

"What?"

"Your father and I heard you the other night."

"Oh shit."

"It's fine, Clementine," she says. "I think I would be more worried if you weren't having sex. He's very much a man and you've grown into a beautiful woman. It's natural."

"I didn't mean for you to hear. I'm so embarrassed."

"We had a good laugh," she says. "Don't worry about it. I am glad that's good, too."

"Oh, it is very good."

Mom chuckles and pats my hand. "Oh Clementine."

We circle the block one more time before three large dogs meet up with us.

"I thought they should come along," Tobias says. "They like it here."

"They do," I say, scratching Arwen's head. "Maybe if you come visit this summer, you can bring them along."

"Can I come visit really?"

"Of course," I say. "There are a lot of things to explore in Boston."

"Cool," Tobias says. "Dad said we need to leave in an hour."

"All right," I say. "Are you all packed?"

"Yes," he says.

"I should go round up my things," Mom says. "Thank you for this weekend, Clementine, and I'm so glad you're okay."

"Thanks, Mom. I love you."

"I love you," she says, hugging me. Tobias and I round up the dogs and herd them into the back yard.

"Everything okay?" Chris asks, stretching as he steps into the sunshine.

"Yes," I say, cozying up to him. "Mom likes you. My parents also heard us last night."

"So that's why your father was leering at me this morning."

"My father doesn't leer."

"He was giving me the stink eye then."

"Oh, Christopher," I say, squeezing him. "Mom didn't think it was a big deal."

"I'm glad," Chris says, kissing the top of my head. "We'll have to get a secluded master bedroom in our next house."

"The kids will have to be older then."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I say. "We would want the kids nearby when they're young, but we can kick 'em down the hall when they're old enough not to wake up screaming in the middle of the night."

"I love it when you talk about the kids," he says. I smile as I lean my head back and kiss him. Even though my head itches terrible and my wrist dully throbs, I'm dreading my visit to the police station tomorrow and my long-term financial situation is currently up in the air, I feel warm all over and it isn't just the sun. Chris is like sinking into a warm bath with a glass of wine and a good book without a care in the world.

I smile as I drop back to my heels and look up at him.

"We are currently in our backyard," I say. "How about that?"

"How about that," Chris laughs. "You like it?"

"Yes," I say. "I should go make sure Tobes hasn't left anything."

"You need help?"

"You can come along if you like."

After seeing my family depart, Chris and I stop for dinner.

“You could have a very interesting month ahead of you,” Chris says, taking our brown bags from the girl at the counter.

“Yeah?"

“If you’re no longer working for Morganstern,” he says, “you can come on the press tour with me."

“Yeah, I could,” I say. “Do the other people take guests?"

“Scott’s gone with me before,” he says. “Chris and Robert take their families, and Scarlett will take hers. I don’t know if Bette will go since she’s so far along, but I imagine she’d be there otherwise. Chad will probably bring his lady friend along."

“Am I your lady friend? That sounds scandalous."

“If only they knew,” Chris says, opening my car door. I laugh as I hoist myself up and he passes me the bag. “You don’t have to decide today but I would love to have you with me. You could, however, help me watch my mouth when I get stupid and tired."

“Ooh, you do need help with that,” I say when he climbs into his seat and closes his door. “I guess we can check with the police department tomorrow and see how long I need to stick around or when it will go to trial if it goes to trial. I do have a wedding this weekend though, my only in April."

“Yeah, I know,” he says, backing out of the parking spot.

“Is there a premier in London?"

“Yes,” he says.

“How many passes do you get? Like, do you actually watch the movie?"

“I could probably manage a few,” he says, “and we could watch the movie if you want. Why?"

“Maimeó,” I say, “if I’m that close to her and don’t see her, I will never hear the end of it."

“Your Maimeó sounds like quite the woman,” he says.

“She is,” I say. “I think you would like her. She’s all fire and sass but she’s worked hard and gave my father and his siblings the life they have. And then she moved back to Ireland after setting them all up here to take care of her own mother."

“Have you been to Ireland before?"

“Yes, but it’s been awhile. We would spend summers there as children. I would love to see her though."

“I can definitely get her a pass then if you want to come,” he says, “and you can spend the day with her while I’m in interviews."

“Really?"

“Of course,” he says.

“That would be fantastic. I’ll see what Morganstern thinks about moving, I really think we could do a lot of good work in Boston."

“I think you could, too,” he says. “That may just be for selfish reasons though."

“I’m already moving,” I say, “so still doing weddings with Morganstern would just be a bonus. I could do my own, you know, but it would be nice to have her backing."

“You could do it,” he says. “I could help you finance it."

“No, no, no, no, no. I mean, thanks for the offer but this isn’t what it’s about. It would be nice to have her support with clients and vendors, that sort of thing."

“Understandable,” he says. “I just wanted you to know I could help you."

“I know that,” I say, “and I’m grateful for the possibility. I just wouldn’t want to do that with your money, especially when planning weddings is not my true passion. Like, if I needed help with my dresses, I would ask you, because that’s really important to me. I don’t need help — thanks — but I would definitely ask if I needed it."

“Okay,” he says. “I know you can support yourself but if you ever needed my help, I would be happy to do that for you."

"Yes, prince. I know. Now, will you be upset if I eat all the croutons out of this salad? They're the best croutons I've ever had."

"You may eat them all," he says. "I don't mind one bit."

I pace along the hall while Chris sits in a plastic chair that's been bolted to the wall and floor. He hasn't said anything in awhile, and I know it's because he figures it's better to let me be.

"It's good news for you," Lucille, my lawyer, says as she comes through the thick glass doors. Her briefcase swings by her side, her demeanor much different from how she had met us earlier. Chris pops up from his seat and rests his hand on my shoulder. "She's pleading guilty and is looking at five years in prison, a fine of $50,000 and restitution for you to cover your medical bills, my fee, and the damage to your apartment."

"All of that from just the half hour?" I ask, scratching my forehead as Chris stands. He massages my shoulders.

"Since you identified her easily, her fingerprints match those on the knife and she's pleading guilty, there's really nothing left for you to do. You can attend her sentencing hearing if you'd like, which is probably in a month. The judge granted your order of protection which will keep you safe under the law for fifteen days should she make bail, and we can talk about a restraining order if and when she's released. With you leaving the state, that may be unnecessary."

"That's great news," I say. "I just want all of this to be behind us."

"Of course," she says. "Leah Hawthorne will not be a problem for you."

"Thank you," I say. "I feel so relieved."

"What happens now?" Chris asks, rubbing my shoulder.

"I'll let you know when she gets a court date and you can attend if you want." Lucille looks through the glass and nods. A man waves at her as he circles the desks, and then he joins us in the hall. He is the prosecuting attorney and he assures us the case should wrap up quickly and easily.

"Congratulations," Lucille says, hugging me. "I feel like that's an odd thing to say in this situation but you're out of the worst of it now."

“Thank you,” I say. “I know this isn’t your area of expertise but thank you for being here."

“Of course,” she says. “I’ve got a meeting in half an hour that I’ll be just able to make, so I better run. It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Evans."

“You as well,” Chris says. “Take care."

She nods as she dashes towards the door and then we’re alone in the hallway.

“What do you want to do now?” I ask.

Chris smiles as he wraps his arms around me. “Whatever you want to do. It’s your city and you won’t be in it for very much longer so I leave it to you."

“I want to take a nap,” I laugh. “Honestly."

“Sounds good to me,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I’m so glad this is working out."

“We’re not finished yet,” I say. Chris knits his brows together and cocks his head to the side. “We’re meeting Morganstern in the morning."

“Really?"

“You said you weren’t leaving my side while we’re here, and that’s where I’m going." We cross the parking lot and reach my car. Chris follows me to my side and opens my door, waiting patiently for me to climb inside. He blocks the sun, leaning over towards me.

"Okay," he says. "If you've accepted I'm not leaving your side, does that mean I get to shower with you?"

"If we both fit," I say. "You know it's just in with the tub so we probably won't fit under the spray together."

"I'll freeze then."

"Won't that cause you to be fractious?"

"Please," he scoffs. "I'm bigger than most when I'm slightly fractious."

"I have no complaints," I say. Chris kisses me before shutting the door.

We wake from our nap when Care calls and declares she and Dixon are bringing dinner and that we can’t decline. Chris laughs when I tell him and he sadly pulls on a shirt.

“Clementine!” Care says as she opens door. She kept her key when she moved out in case of emergencies. “I’ve missed you so much!"

I hug her and she kisses my cheek. “I missed you too, of course. How are you?"

“Okay,” she says. “I threw up this morning but other than that I’m okay."

“The cravings have already started,” Dixon says, walking around the living room with two brown bags in his hands. “So she’s having shepherd’s pie with a side of dill pickles."

“I really just want to eat everything,” Care says. “Today I dropped a chip on the ground at the store but I just picked it up and ate it. Do you know how many germs there are on that floor?"

“You’re having a baby,” I say. “You’re no longer in charge of your body."

“Congratulations on that, by the way,” Chris says.

“Thanks, Chris!” Care says as they hug each other. “We’re excited."

“As you should be,” he says. “I love babies."

“I know,” Care says. “I’m expecting you two to come back for a weekend and keep it."

“We would be happy to do that,” I say. “I would like that a lot."

"We could definitely do that," Chris says.

"You'll be busy though, won't you?" Care asks. "Defending the people with the shield and stars?"

"That's just through the end of the year,"  Chris says. "I'll be around in time to see the baby."

"What does that mean for you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to be gone for months and Clemmie can't be away that whole time, so what are you going to do?"

“I’ve been in relationships before when I was filming. It was hard but I also never felt the way I do about Clem as I did the others.” He pulls me under his arm and tugs me close. “I’m not worried. Are you worried?"

“I’m not worried,” I say. “I’ll come see you, you’ll come see me, we’ll meet in the middle under the cherry tree."

“What?” Care asks, narrowing her eyes.

“It rhymed,” I answer. “I felt it."

Chris kisses my head and rubs my arm. “We’ll be fine."

“We have staying power,” I laugh. “We’ve been apart most of our fledgling relationship. We can be apart for several months. Bette and Sebastian were apart for a few months and now she's having a baby."

“I don’t know if we want to jump to a baby just yet,” Chris says.

“I don’t either,” I say. “I just mean they had been married for all of a week when he had to film Cap 3 and she went back to New York and they’ve been just fine since then."

“You talk to Bette?"

“We text all the time,” I say. “It’s mostly baby stuff but I am making her that dress for the premiere, you know, so we chat."

“Well, that’s cute,” Chris says. “It’ll be nice for the two of you to have each other through all this stuff."

“It is,” I say. “We’re excited."

“Who is this?” Dixon asks.

“Sebastian Stan and his wife, Bette,” I answer. “If we’re ever in New York at the same time, your babies will be able to have a playdate, and I’ll just sit back with my glass of wine and watch."

“Why would we all be in New York at the same time?” Care asks.

“Because you’ll come to visit my trunk show at Kleinfeld’s and Bette lives there so it’ll be wonderful."

“All right,” Care says. “I’m down for a playdate. What are you doing tomorrow?"

“We are going to see Morganstern in the morning to see if I still have half a job or if I’m a full-time dress designer."

“You’re already a full-time dress designer,” Care says. “You’re also a full-time wedding planner. You need to be a part-time wedding planner if you need to plan weddings at all so you can do your dresses like you’ve always wanted."

“Well, we’ll see about that tomorrow,” I say. “What’s anybody want to drink?"

I enjoy my evening with my friends and Christopher, and I have no problem falling asleep next to him after a hot shower in the apartment where I was attacked.

“Did you sleep better last night?” Chris asks, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“I did,” I say.

“I thought so,” he says. “I’m glad."

“I think it was mostly you and wine."

“Wine and myself are a very potent combination for you,” he laughs. “We know just how to ease your thoughts."

"That's true," I say. "I like having you in my bed, like my big personal space heater."

"I like being in your bed." He grins as I kiss him once.

"Did I bother you the other night?"

"No," he answers. "I knew you were shifting a lot which isn't characteristically you. I didn't want to badger you about it and knew you had every right to feel uneasy so I just held you a little tighter."

"Thank you," I say, rubbing his cheek with my thumb. "Are you ready to face the wolves?"

"Hell yes," he says. "I'm very charming, you know."

"I do know," I say, "and you're looking very handsome today so Morganstern can't blame me for moving for you."

"Will she hate me for that?"

"Impossible," I say, squeezing his bum. "Besides, think of all the things I'm gaining."

"Like what?"

"I don't have to pay rent anymore, my pregnant best friend gets to move back into a nicer apartment more suited to a family of three, I get to learn the ins and outs of a new town, I'm closer to New York and the many opportunities it holds, and commercial flights are actually shorter for my family. Did you know they could take a train over night and be in Boston in the morning? Do you know how much Tobias and my dad would love taking the train overnight? They would be nerding out the entire time. Mom could fly up though because the train would bore her. Either way, my family is closer. Not to mention I get to live with my generous and caring boyfriend in his beautiful home. There's another bonus."

"What's that?"

"Well, since you have a yard, I think it's time for another puppy."

"You want to move into my house — our house — and get a puppy?"

"Please?"

Chris grins as he pulls me between his legs. "I knew there was a reason I loved you, Clementine Rogers!"

I kiss Chris's knuckles in the elevator. "I'm not sure what will happen once we get inside."

He laughs and runs his fingers through my hair. "I'm sure we can handle it."

The silver doors slide back and the office is silent. My coworkers are all standing outside their offices with tilted heads and open mouths.

"Good morning everyone," I say. "He's here."

Rose is the first one to shriek and clap her hands, skipping towards us. "Hi. You're even more beautiful in person and you two look like a dream together. I can't believe I'm here with Chris Evans and he's shaking my hand. Oh my God."

"This is Rose," I say. "She's Mrs. Morganstern's assistant."

"Hello, Rose," Chris says. "I'm delighted to meet you."

A small squeak escapes her lips but she's frozen just looking at him.

"Will you please tell Mrs. Morganstern we're here?" I ask, my hand on Rose's arm to pull her back to reality.

"Of course," she nods. "Right away."

I introduce Chris to everyone and then Mrs. Morganstern emerges from her office, a hand on her hip and her hair recently retouched.

"And this is Mrs. Minerva Morganstern," I say, waving my hand with a flourish I know she'll appreciate. "Mrs. Morganstern, this is Chris."

"Mr. Evans, delighted."

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Chris says.”Clemmie always talks of how you inspire her."

“Well, she is an inspiration herself, is she not?"

“I certainly think so,” Chris says. Heat rushes to my cheeks and I can't help but smile.

"Come on then," she says. "Let's talk." Chris and I follow her into her office and she closes the door behind us. "Have a seat."

Chris gestures towards a chair and holds it while I sit, and then he sinks next to me. I slide my hand in his.

"So," Mrs. Morganstern says, her eyes shifting between the two of us, "you're the man who's taking my Clemmie away from me."

"I am going on my volition, you know."

"Clementine, I don't care whether or not you're going willingly. The point is you're leaving me. You can plan five weddings in the time it takes anyone else to plan one. Tina comes second with three! What am I going to do without you?"

"Tina is more than capable," I say. "She's come along way in a very short time."

"And I suppose you want to take her with you when you open the Boston office?"

"I'm opening the Boston office?" I spring forward in my chair and squeeze Chris's fingers.

"I guess so," Mrs. Morganstern smiles. "I've looked at your proposals and it does seem like the perfect market."

"Minerva, this is fantastic news!" I'm around her desk and hugging her. "I'm so excited. Thank you so much!"

"Clementine. This is very unprofessional."

"I know," I say, "but this going to be so fantastic."

"You're right," she sighs. "Now sit down so we can talk plans."

Mrs. Morganstern's goal is to have the office open in six months with me taking the first few weeks off to go on the press tour with Chris. We'll close on the building while I'm away, and I will rent the third floor for my studio. Boston has a bridal fair in June which I will attend to spread our business and contact potential vendors and venues. With any luck, we'll have brides lining up outside the door.

"Now go ask Tina if she wants to move with you — it's completely her decision. I want to have a few words with Mr. Evans."

"What?"

"Go on, Clementine," Mrs. Morganstern says. "He'll be fine."

Chris smiles and nods when I stand up. “I’ll see you in a minute, button."

“All right,” I say. “Don’t do anything that will leave a scar."

Mrs. Morganstern cackles as I pull the door closed behind me.

Tina doesn’t even need any convincing to come to Boston with us, and she’ll gladly take the month to get her things together.

Knocking on Mrs. Morganstern’s door, I hear Chris’s laughter from the other side and push it open.

“You’re a hoot, Minerva,” he says, standing up. He reaches across the desk and shakes her hand, and my boss is actually blushing.

“Is Tina with you, Clementine?"

"She is,” I say. “You have her for the month and then we’ll start to move her along."

“And when are you moving?"

“We’ll spend the night packing my things and we have a truck coming on Monday."

“All right,” she says. “Well, don’t let me down."

“You know I won’t."

“I know, Clementine,” she says. “You can pack up your office if you like."

“I will do that,” I say. “I’ll call the realtor right now and get things moving."

“Wonderful,” she says. “Mr. Evans, take care of our girl."

“I plan on it,” he says, following me out of the office. We cross the hall into my office and Chris closes the door behind. He looks around the knickknacks on my shelves and though my design binders while I talk to the realtor. I swirl around in my chair when I hang up the phone, and Chris is leaning against the wall with one hand in his pocket.

“What did Mrs. Morganstern say?"

“She was actually more terrifying than your parents,” he says. “She said if I hurt you, she’ll rip my balls off with her french-manicured nails and shove them down my throat."

“Eep,” I say. “I”m sorry. Just don’t fuck this up so you can keep your balls."

He laughs as he saunters towards me and stands at the corner of my desk. “Your office is quite pretty. It was unprofessional of you to hug Minverva like that, but would you like to engage in some more unprofessional activity?"

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, uncrossing my ankles. Chris licks his lips as he sinks to his knees in front of me. Slipping his hand up my skirt, he kisses me fervently and I slide further down the chair. I hum when his fingers massage my clit through my underwear, and I lift my hips so he can pull the white lacy garment down my legs.

"Have you been wanting me all day?" His head is hidden beneath my skirt and his breath is hot on my thigh.

"I always want you," I whisper. My back bows and I clutch the leather behind my head as he slips his fingers inside me and moves them just so.

For several long minutes, my office is silent except for my quiet gasps and his lips smacking against my skin. And then my phone rings.

"Answer it."

"Fuck," I hiss, reaching for the damn ringing thing. "Morganstern Weddings, this is Clemmie Rogers speaking. How may I help you?"

"Good," Chris mutters. "You sound practically normal."

"Clemmie, this is Janine."

“Janine, hi! How are you?"

“Getting increasingly more nervous,” she says.

“Oh, you’re going to be fine,” I manage. “Everything is taken care of."

“I know,” she sighs. I bite my lip as Chris nibbles my clit. “I was just wondering if I could meet you this afternoon to go over some small details."

“Yes, I can do that,” I say. I grab Chris’s hair as he licks.

“Clemmie, are you okay?” Janine asks.

“Uh, yes. Yes!"

“You sound a little distracted,” she says. “Should I call back?"

“No, no! No need to call back,” I say. “Where and what time?"

“Caspio’s at three?"

“Sounds great,” I say. “See you then.” I drop the phone back on its cradle. “You bastard."

“It’s not my fault you won’t just come."

“I think I’m too nervous."

“About what?"

“Someone walking in."

“Door’s locked. I feel the opposite of nervous when thinking about getting caught."

“Yeah?"

“Yes,” he says, quickly peeking out from between my legs. He stands in front of me and his khakis are stretched over his hard dick.

“Oh,” I say. “If that’s how you feel.” I pop out of my chair and land on the edge of my desk. “Come here."

Chris grins mischievously as I reach for his fly. He kisses me greedily as I push down his boxer briefs and we slide together. He is right — the thought of getting caught makes it feel that much better.

He grunts loudly and I clap my hand over his mouth. "Shhh." He smiles against my palm as he thrusts, and I bury my face against his shirt as I climax. Digging his fingers into my ass, he finishes with an open mouth and closed eyes. I tickle his neck with my finger tips and kiss him until he smiles.

“You want to know something?” Chris asks, pulling away when he steps back to adjust himself.

“What?” I ask, jumping from my desk. I smooth my skirt and straighten my blouse.

“Door’s not locked.” He looks at me through his long eyelashes.

“You bastard,” I laugh, hitting his chest. “I could have been fired."

“You don’t need this job,” he says. “You have a whole line of dresses."

“Fine then,” I say. “I like this job. And I can see the door is locked from here."

Grinning sheepishly, he holds my underwear in his fingers. “You want these back?”

I shrug and swat his bum. “It’s a nice day."

“Clementine Rogers,” he says, “you’re always surprising me."

“I’m fucking amazing."

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” He kisses me again, clutching my bum which he loves so much. “Let’s get you all packed up."

“I appreciate the help."

“Of course, button.” He takes my hands and kisses my finger tips. “The sooner we get you all packed up, the sooner we can get you home."

“Not to sound lame,” I say, “or to borrow from Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, but home is wherever I’m with you."

Chris smiles as he pulls me against his chest and kisses the top of my head. Simply standing with his arms around me feels infinitely better than anything else, and I know I’ve never said anything more true.

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Why are you so upset with me?"

“God, Clem!” Chris shouts, his nostrils flaring. "I called you, like, eight times! What if something happened?"

“Chris, I was with Bette. We’re in Paris — I had to go look at fabrics. What kind of designer would I be if I didn’t pick up fabrics in Paris?"

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?"

“It never rang!” I yell back, pulling my phone from my purse. I have twelve missed calls and twenty texts. “Oh my gosh, the ‘do not disturb’ switch was on. I’m so sorry, Chris."

“And you didn’t think to check?” He snarls, his hands on his hips.

“We went into the catacombs and I didn’t figure I had service anyway."

“You took a woman who is seven months pregnant into the catacombs beneath Paris?! Do you know what happens in the catacombs, Clementine?"

“Tours, Christopher! Tours happen in the catacombs. And I didn’t take Bette anywhere. She wanted to go and actually found it really fascinating. We had a nice day together while her husband and my fuckwad boyfriend were working. I spent twelve thousand dollars on lace and silk today and you haven’t even asked me about it."

“Lace and silk, Clementine?"

“Yes,” I say. “It’s very beautiful and I was going to take a small little bit for myself and make something sexy for you to enjoy but maybe now you won’t get to enjoy it."

“You’re withholding sex now?"

“Well, when you’re shouting at me for no reason when I’m perfectly fine and I apologized, the last thing I want to do is sleep with you. Surely that’s not hard to understand. I’ve apologized, I’m sorry, it was a mistake, you could have called Bette or had Sebastian call her rather than just assuming the worst had happened to me. I don’t know why you’re still huffing and puffing."

“I was so worried about you. We’re in a foreign country where anything could happen and you don’t exactly look like a heavy hitter."

“I understand why you would be upset but you’ve been yelling at me for at least ten minutes and I don’t know what else you want me to say."

“I don’t know, Clemmie, I don’t know."

He doesn’t move and I don’t either. I think our relationship would be on better grounds if I had stayed back in the states while he was doing the press tour. It’s been two weeks of very little sleep in swanky hotels with excellent food but endless questions. The cast goes into interviews fairly early in the morning and is occupied until the evening. I’ve been happy to have Bette along as this is her first press tour too and she finds everything as exciting as I do, but Chris has been less than happy. He’s exhausted and crabby, and I suppose I am the easiest person to project that onto.

“I’m going to Scott’s,” I say. “My phone is on ring now, so if you think you can call me and talk to me in a calm manner, please call. Until then, I’ll be with your brother. I’m sorry for not answering my phone and causing you worry, but I refuse to be yelled at."

I sigh as I pick up my purse and he turns towards the wall. He probably needs a nap and some food.

Scott doesn’t ask questions when I show up at his room; I expect it’s because he knows his brother’s behavior better than anyone else. We eat dinner together without a word from Chris, and then Scott decides we need a distraction.

Scott’s idea of a distraction is a flamboyant club decorated with men in shiny silver briefs and cascading rose petals. It takes two shots of some stinging green stuff to make me forget about my phone which hasn’t buzzed once since I left Chris this afternoon and a herald of gay men decide I’m too precious to be alone.

I can’t say I disagree.

Scott grabs me sometime after one, dashing because the handsome man he’d been with all night wasn’t as single as Scott assumed and a scorned boyfriend was on his way. We laugh as we sprint onto the street, and Scott kisses the side of my face.

“You’re too much fun, Clemmie!” he cheers, draping his arm around my shoulder. “Chris will come around. He’s just stressed! He loves you! In a way this is good — like he feels secure enough in your love to know you won't leave him when he gets crabby. And boy, does he get crabby!"

"I guess I'm honored then," I say.

"It sucks, of course," Scott says, "but isn't that, like, the point of a relationship? You have to bear all the stinky shit together and celebrate the happy points."

“I guess,” I say. “I’m not mad at him or really even upset, and I don’t mind being the one he dumps on, but I don’t like being the butt of anger. I can take the shitty stuff with the good but I don’t necessarily have to take it lying down."

“You really don’t,” he says, “but this exactly why you’re so good for Chris. He needs someone who can tell him when he’s being an asshole, and I think that’s even a little bit why he loves you. You’re the bessssssssstttttt!"

“Thanks, Scotty,” I say, helping him struggle down the street.

I’ve sobered up now but Scott is still several drinks strong so he shouts everything he says, and I struggle to get him into bed. He falls asleep quickly once I get him on his side, and I shake my head. Deciding it’s probably better he not be left alone for awhile should he start vomiting, I settle on the couch. Scott rolls from one side to the other, and his phone falls out of his pocket and onto the floor.

“Don’t do it, Clemmie,” I say to myself as I pick it up. Scott’s very smart with his password, but I happen to know the pattern and I find his texts. “This is very wrong."

But it’s right there — texts between Scott and Chris.

_Chris: Are you still with Clemmie?_

_Scott: Yes. You should feel like a real ass._

_Chris: Is she okay?_

_Scott: She’s fine, no thanks to you._

And there’s a picture of me on the dance floor surrounded by barely clothed men in a fog of glitter. I bet Chris really liked receiving that one.

_Chris: Take care of her._

Scott responded to that with the flexed bicep emoji, the tropical drink emoji and the pile of poo emoji, and I’m not really sure what that means aside from the fact that Scott was very drunk.

I place Scott’s phone on the nightstand and sink onto the couch again. At least Chris was thinking about me.

“Clem. Clemmie. Clemmie!” Scott whines from behind me. He's stretched out in bed and looks horrible. “I feel like shit."

“I think that’s kind of how you look, dear one,” I say. “Let’s get you cleaned up."

He moans when he sits up, and we get him to the bathroom. I order breakfast for both of us while he showers, and Scott is much more aware when he emerges.

“Wow,” I say. “That’s the biggest hickey I’ve ever seen."

“I have a hickey?” Scott asks, running back into the bathroom.

“Looks like you have the whole state of Rhode Island on your neck,” I say. “Kudos."

“He was very good with his tongue,” Scott laughs. “Ah hell. I’m not trying to win any beauty pageants or anything. What about you, sweet pea? You still avoiding my brother or what?"

“I’m not avoiding him,” I say. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after last night."

“I’m fine,” he says. “You need a shower and a change of clothes though, and I believe all your stuff is back in your hotel room."

“It is,” I say, “but I’ve already ordered breakfast for the both of us here and I’m hungry enough to wait on it. Besides, he has not reached out to me at all. I apologized and don’t know what more he could want."

“It’s the anxiety,” Scott says. “He does this sometimes. He’ll get through this slump and then you’ll be fine."

“If you say so,” I say, popping my knuckles.

“Clementine,” he says, taking my hands. “You are a bright, brilliant young lady, and I know my brother needs you in his life. The wonderful thing is he happens to want you in it as well, and I can say with full confidence he will apologize, he may cry a little bit and then you’ll be together. And, if we’re being optimistic, this is a good problem to have at this time. As long as Chris is in the film industry, this will be something he’ll have to do and you get a test run with a net below. I love you, and I know he does too."

I hug his neck. “I love you too."

There’s a knock on the door and part of me hopes it’s Chris coming to get me before he heads to his activities, but it’s just the food. After breakfast, I head back to the hotel room to shower and get ready, and Scott promises he’ll come collect me in forty-five minutes. The French press is screening the film this morning and they’ll have the whole panel this afternoon.

Our room is empty except for a mass amount of chocolate wrappers in the trash which is out of character for Chris. He’s been getting into shape for Infinity War so chocolate has been far from the menu. There’s no note or any sign he missed me, but I choose to move forward. I clean up nicely for a woman who spent most of the night at a gay bar and on a couch, even though I’m finding glitter everywhere. I’ll probably have glitter in my hair for weeks. I manage to pull some of it back and pull on my cute green dress and plum heels. The best way to convey confidence when you have none is to pretend you do, and that is exactly my plan.

“You look perfect,” Scott says when I open the door.

“That’s the goal,” I say. “Fake it until you make it."

“Still haven’t heard from him?"

“No,” I say. “I don’t know what to do. I mean, I could call him, of course, but I am stubborn."

“Aren’t we all?” Scott asks. “He’ll see you and he’ll cave."

“I don’t need him to cave,” I say, “I just need him to talk to me."

“He’ll talk,” Scott says.

My heart is in my ears by the time we make it to the wing where they’re conducting interviews.

“Scott and Clemmie!” Robert says, opening his arms wide. “Good morning!"

“Morning,” I say, hugging him.

“Is Chris all right?” Robert asks. “He seems a little out of it today."

“I don’t know,” I say. “We’re in the middle of a thing."

Robert frowns. “Well, don’t think too hard on it. I’ve been on a couple of these with Chris now and this is the first time he’s ever brought a woman along so it’s probably an adjustment for him. Do I need to smack him around for you?"

I laugh. “As much as I would like to see that, no, thank you. We’ll work it out. Do you know where he is?"

“He’s in there with Scarlett already,” Robert says. “It’ll be in there awhile. I’ll see you cool kids in a bit.” He slaps Scott’s shoulder as he leaves.

“Do you think it’s bad he’s a little down and doing interviews?” I ask.

“Scarlett’s good with him,” Scott says. “They’ve been friends for so long she’s really good at reading him. She’ll make sure he’s okay."

I droop against the wall, suddenly feeling prickly all over. “I should have talked to him earlier. I know how much he hates doing all this stuff and he doesn’t need to be having an us problem when he’s sitting with interviewers. Shiiiiiiiiit."

“Clem,” Scott says, rubbing my back, “this is not your fault. He’s a grown man who’s done a million interviews. You’ll talk to him in a minute."

It’s like I can’t find a way to get all the tension out of my body while we wait. It feels like I’ve aged a year when the door finally opens. Scarlett emerges first and I hear Chris talking happily with the journalist.

“Take care, bro."

Chris pops out of the door but locks up when he sees me and Scott.

“Good morning, Scott,” he says. “Clemmie."

“Can we talk?” I ask.

“What about?"

“Chris.” Scott hisses.

“We’re fine,” Chris says shortly. “I get it. I’m sorry I cared for your well-being and only wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s a really shitty thing for a boyfriend to want for his girlfriend."

“Chris.” Scott hisses again.

“Can we not do this here?"

Chris rolls his eyes and shrugs. “Fine."

“You’ve got this,” Scott says, hugging me. “If you should break up, I’ll date you and marry you. We’d be very happy together."

I smile at him. “Thank you."

Chris takes off down the hall to the men’s bathroom on the floor and locks the door behind us.

“What?"

“Chris, what’s wrong?"

“What do you mean? You were gone for hours yesterday when I thought we could do something nice with the afternoon and you don’t check your phone or call. I was so worried about you and you expect me not to be upset. What the fuck?"

“You have every right to be upset about that,” I say. “That’s not the problem. It makes me feel really valued to know you were so worried — I mean, I didn’t do it on purpose to see if you would be worried if your brain was jumping there — but it’s nice to know you care. I don’t know why you’re still upset with me today and I don’t know what I can do to make this better."

He sighs as rubs his neck. “I don’t know, Clementine. Please just check your phone if you go out without me while we’re on this thing. I hate not knowing where you are, and I don’t mean that in a possessive way. I want to make sure you’re okay."

“My phone is on ring right now. When we go to the panel, I’ll switch it to vibrate. I promise. You didn’t bother to check on me last night though, so I’m curious as to why this is a hot issue."

“You were with Scott in a gay club,” Chris says. “If there’s one thing men in a gay club more love than each other, it’s an adorable, fashion-forward, kind, straight woman, and you check all those boxes. I knew you would be fine there."

“Didn’t make you jealous at all?” I joke.

“I was mostly just sad they were all there with you and I wasn’t."

“We could take you back tonight,” I say. “Scott needs a hickey on the other side to even things out."

Chris laughs as he looks at me. “That is huge, isn’t it?"

“It is!” I say, smiling at him. “We’re okay?"

“Okay,” Chris nods. I wrap my arms around his middle for a moment before unlocking the door. “Just don’t stray too far."

“Of course,” I say, pressing him against the wall. He grins as his hands sink to my waist and he kisses me.

“You look really beautiful, by the way,” he says, his forehead against mine.

“Thanks, prince,” I say. “I try."

“You succeed,” he says, pressing his lips against mine. I squeal when something vibrates against my thigh, and he pulls his phone from his pocket. “Shit, I have to go. Will you come with me?"

“Yes,” I say. “I don’t mean this to be rude, but I see why you all start to get a little off in interviews. This schedule is crazy."

“Isn’t it?” Chris says, rubbing his neck again. He yawns deeply as we walk, and I take a little comfort knowing he didn’t sleep well without me. At least that’s what I like to think.

After lunch, we’re all hoarded into a huge hall, and Scott, Bette and I find chairs along the side designated for non-press people. The hall is packed and the table at the front of the room is significantly longer than any of the other Captain America tables. Reporters fill in chairs and the room begins to buzz.

“So many people,” Bette says, one hand on her protruding belly. “I might have to take a walk in the middle of this."

“Let me know if you do and I’ll go with you,” I say. “Give Angela a bit of reprieve."

Sebastian’s assistant, for lack of a better title, is basically like his second mother and she’s been very protective of Bette on this tour. Of course Bette is very round with child so they have every reason to be cautious. Sebastian, Bette and Angela all have Bette’s medical records saved on their devices should a trip to the hospital become necessary, and I became the fourth member of their group upon arrival. Bette’s doctor wasn’t sure this trip was a great thing at this point in time, but she could not object. So, Bette sits next to me with one hand on her belly and a cup of lemon tea in the other.

The panel begins with each member being introduced, and Chris walks slowly onto the little stage. He still seems off which doesn’t make any sense. When the entire cast is seated, the questions begin like rapid fire. I don’t know how celebrities manage these things.

Chris closes his left eye and then his right. He rubs the left one with the butt of his hand and sighs when a question comes his way.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” he asks, looking at the reporter with his left eye still closed. She asks again and Chris nods, supplying a rather short answer for a question that begged for a much longer one. He keeps rubbing his left eye and I hold my head as I watch him.

Robert and Chadwick take a few questions, and Sebastian makes the whole audience laugh with one of his. Scarlett puts her hand on Chris’s shoulder and he nods at her once. The next question is directed to him and he answers shortly again.

“Something’s wrong,” I say.

“What?” Bette asks, looking at me. It’s obvious she’s only had eyes for Sebastian the entire conference.

“Chris,” I say. “Something’s wrong."

Scott looks up from his phone. “We’re almost through this. He’s probably just tired and hungry."

“No,” I say, standing up. I don’t know what I’m possibly going to do but I can’t sit a the back of the room and watch. Creeping along the wall, I apologize to everyone I cut in front of, and then it happens.

The question is directed to Chris again, but he keeps rubbing his eyes. When he opens his mouth, only gibberish comes out.

“Chris!” My voice didn’t sound like my own, but terror runs through me as I watch him. He stands so quickly he knocks his chair backwards and struggles towards the stairs. His hand lands in mine as he hits the first step and Winston, Sebastian and Scott are all there in a second to help me get him down. They drag him behind the posters and out the back door into the hall. Tears run down Chris’s cheeks as he sinks to the floor, laying on his back.

“Chris, prince, talk to me,” I say, taking his hand in mine. His chest heaves.

“It’s a panic attack,” Scott says. “Breathe, Chris!"

“Head.” Chris manages, his arm draped over his eyes.

“You’re having a migraine, too,” I say. “Is that right?"

He nods.

“Do you want your medicine."

He nods again. I pull the pill carrier from my purse. “Seb, can you get out one of the little orange triangular tablets please? They’re under Monday, I think."

Scott’s been talking Chris through his panic attack softly, and Sebastian drops the pill into my palm.

“Chris, I’ve got your medicine here. You need to drink a lot of water with it.” He nods and Scott seems to realize he needs to prop Chris up. We get the pill in his mouth and he manages half a bottle. Some of the production coordinators circle us but Scott waves them away, and Sebastian sighs.

“You’re doing great, prince,” I say, his hand still in mine and Scott rubbing his back. “Keep breathing.”

“You can go back in and tell them it’s a migraine,” I say to Sebastian. “I don’t think he’ll be returning but there’s no need to worry anyone else. Thank you."

“Of course,” he says. “Text me or Bette if you need anything."

I see her standing at the door, and she takes his hand when he approaches.

“You’re doing fine, Chris,” I say. “You’re going to be just fine."

It can’t be more than five minutes but it feels like hours when Chris’s chest stops heaving. He rolls against my abdomen and keeps his head down.

“We’ve got this,” Winston says to the small crowd. “We will get Mr. Evans to his room and see what needs to be rescheduled depending on Mr. Evans’ health. Thank you for your concern."

They’re reluctant to go as this is probably one of the most interesting things they’ve seen in a long time, but they all slink away eventually.

“Chris,” I say softly, “let’s go to the room and nap."

He nods, and Winston and Scott haul him to his feet. He keeps his eyes closed, I assume because the fluorescent bulbs of the hotel are so bright.

“These elevators go right to our room,” I say, keeping my hand on Chris’s abdomen. I feel better knowing he has an idea I’m actually here. We get him inside the room and down to his underwear before putting him in bed. Winston pulls all the curtains closed so the bedroom is essentially in darkness.

“Can you give us fifteen minutes?” I ask. Scott and Winston both agree and close the bedroom door behind them. I kick off my shoes and climb into bed on the other side, trying not to shift the fluffy mattress too much. Chris moves his head into my lap and wraps his arms around my waist so I cradle his face between my palms.

"How are you?"

"Embarrassed."

"Awe, don't be," I say. "You didn't soil yourself or anything, and you were having a medical emergency. Everyone will understand. If anything, you can use this as a platform. Like, how much better is that kid who has debilitating migraines in the middle of math class going to feel when he hears Captain America has horrible migraines, too? You don't need to be embarrassed."

He sighs and tightens his grip around me. "So lame."

I laugh and kiss his ear. "It'll be okay. Winston and Evi will take care of your schedule. You just sleep off your migraine."

"I guess you don't want to sit with me forever."

"I probably shouldn't," I say. "I'll bring you a Coke though and check on you in a couple of hours."

"Okay," he says. "Thank you."

"Of course, prince," I say. "Do you need anything right now?"

"No," he says.

"All right," I say. "Winston has your phone but we'll be right out here if you need us."

He nods against me as he shifts towards his pillow. I kiss his head before climbing from the bed and finding my heels in the dark.

Scott and Winston jump up from the couch. "So?"

"He'll be okay," I say. "Winston, would you mind finding a vending machine and getting him a Coke please?"

"Of course," Winston says. "Anything else?"

I shake my head and Winston leaves.

"How did you know it was a migraine?" Scott asks.

"It explains the way he was acting," I say. "He ate three chocolate bars yesterday. Do you know how odd that was for him? I think he lost vision in his left eye which is why he kept closing it and then rubbing it, and then he was blithering. The migraine set off the panic attack."

"How do you know that?"

"I work with men and women on what is potentially the most stressful day of their lives. I've dealt with a surprising number of panic attacks, stress migraines, fainting spells, flop sweats, and what I fondly like to call the wedding day drips and runs."

"Eww. Seriously?"

"Seriously," I say. "Some people should not eat anything before their wedding because it's just going to make a reappearance one way or the other."

"Why did you have some of his pills?"

"Your mom actually suggested it," I answer. "I always keep the regulars on me — Tylenol, Advil, Aleve, Midol, Pepcid, and Pepto — you know, for any occasion, but your mom asked if I would keep some of his migraine stuff in there. She was right."

"Of course she was," Scott laughs. "What now?"

"I think we should talk to Evi and see if we can cancel his plans for the rest of the day so he can rest and be okay for the premier tomorrow."

"God, he's going to hate this," Scott says.

“He already does,” I say. “He said he was embarrassed."

“We got him out quickly,” Scott says, “before the crying started, not that that should matter. People will probably send love and support."

The door opens and Winston emerges with a bottle of Coke. He passes it to me and flops onto the couch.

“Evi is talking with the Marvel reps now,” he says. “She’ll be here in a few minutes."

“Thanks,” I say. “What’s the damage?"

“I think some of the press is upset, not angry or anything, but upset,” Winston says. “Of course watching a grown man sputter on stage and have to be led out the door is certainly disconcerting. She has it under control."

“Good,” I say. “The last thing he needs is to feel stressed about having a migraine in the middle of a press conference."

“Do you think he’s okay?"

“I can go check."

I twist the lid off the bottle before sneaking into the room to find my prince asleep. I feel my way to the nightstand and leave the drink before heading out.

“He’s snoring,” I say when I emerge. “We’ll see how he feels in a few hours."

Evi appears minutes later, her hair slightly askew and her cheeks red. “How is he?"

“He’s asleep,” Scott answers. “He should be fine."

“Good, good,” she says, sitting next to me. “It’s a migraine?"

“We think so,” I say. “If he does’t feel better in a bit, we may need to take him to the hospital."

“Are you taking charge of that?” Evi asks.

“She should,” Scott says. “She knew something was wrong before he was even out of his chair. I didn’t even notice that."

“It explains so much, really,” I say. “He was so mad at me until this morning, and that would explain it."

“It would,” Scott sighs. "That was one of the most terrifying things I've ever seen."

"I thought it was a stroke," Evi says. "I've gotten him through tours before with a little stress but nothing like this."

"Nobody make him feel guilty about it because he shouldn't and he's already beating himself up." I pick at the hem of my skirt, noticing a loop in the thread. "Migraines attack the best of us."

"You should have been there during The Avengers," Scott says, his hand falling on my arm. "The cowl gave him a lot of problems."

"I feel like they could get rid of the cowl and everyone would be okay," I say. "It's 2016. Nobody expects Captain America to still cover his head, even if it is protective. They didn't have to wear those silly hats in Harry Potter past the first one, he could get away with not having the cowl."

"Ooh," Evi laughs, "tell the costuming department how you feel."

"I could," I say. "I could redo all their costumes remarkably well."

"I don't doubt you could," Scott says, pulling my hand onto his lap. A soft knock at the door catches our attention.

"Hey," Scarlett says softly when Evi opens the door. It looks like the whole cast and tour crew is behind her, peeking anxiously over her shoulders. "We all just wanted to check on Chris and make sure he's all right."

"He should be fine," Scott says. "Just sleeping it off at the moment."

"So he's good then?” Anthony asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We think he will be," Winston says.

“And are you okay?” Anthony asks, looking at me. “I’ve never seen a little body move that quickly in my whole life."

“I’m spritely,” I laugh, “but I’m okay. I’m glad he’ll be all right."

"Of course you are," Anthony says. "Do you need anything?"

"No, we're fine," I say. "Thank you."

"All right," Robert says, "we'll get out of the way if there's nothing we can do. We're doing dinner tonight if any of you want to come, but we understand if you don't."

"Thank you," I say, "but I'll probably stay with Chris."

"Me, too," Scott says.

"And we both have a lot to handle now," Evi says, gesturing between her and Winston, "but thanks for the offer."

"Of course," Robert says. "Like Big Butt said, let us know if you need anything."

They all leave with hugs and then Winston and Evi exit to attend to calls and emails. Scott rings Lisa to let her know, and Marvel sends a doctor to check on Chris. His prescription is sleep and black coffee.

Scott and I order room service while Chris sleeps, and then Scott decides to retire to his own room. I enjoy a bath because the tub is seated beneath a window of the Paris skyline, and it seems it would be a waste.

My boyfriend doesn't even stir when I hit my toe on the nightstand and curse loudly, falling onto the bed. I guess his sleep is crucial at this point, and I settle in next to me.

"Good night, prince," I say, kissing his shoulder. I may as well be talking to the moon.

I let him sleep late and order breakfast, and I find myself drawn to the window in our room. I've been to Paris before but the accommodations weren't so nice and I was in a room with three of my snoring siblings that time.

"That's a sight to wake up to," Chris says, his voice low and scratchy with the remnants of sleep.

"Prince! Good morning. How do you feel?" I crouch on the floor next to the bed and run my fingers through his hair.

"I'm feeling much better."

"Let me get you a cup of coffee."

"Noooo," Chris whines, grabbing my hip as I stand. "I need you to call Evi and have her clear my schedule."

"Is the migraine still there?" I ask, tracing his brow with my finger.

"No," he says, shifting so he's almost hanging off the bed. "I've been in Paris for four days and three nights and two of those nights with my amazing girlfriend have been completely spoiled and I just want to waste the day in bed with you."

"Christopher," I say, sinking to my knees again, "as lovely as that sounds, we both know you can't skip out today. However, make it through today and you can have me all night and all day tomorrow except the hour and a half we're flying to London. I am glad you're feeling much better though."

He sighs dramatically and rubs his face in the pillow. "I don' wanna go."

"Get up and face the day, sweet prince," I say, ruffling his hair, "and I'll make sure it's worthwhile."

"Ooh, Clementine," he says. "I like the sound of that."

I smile as I kiss him, and he hums appreciatively.

"Up with you," I say, lightly slapping his bum. "I'll get you coffee and I've already ordered room service since I wasn't sure when you'd be awake."

"Thank you, button," he says. "I love you."

"I know," I say. "If you're not up by the time I return, I'm calling Scott and Anthony to drag your ass out of bed."

"Yes, ma'am." He smirks as he rolls over. "I like it when you take control."

"I'll remember that."


	16. Chapter 16

Chris smiles when he opens the door and I raise my eyebrows at him. Chuckling, he closes the door and drops his hands to his hips. 

"To what do I owe this honor?" 

"I told you to make it through today and I would make it worth your time." 

I stand before him in a black silk robe. It’s quite fitted and feels superb against my skin, but he hasn’t even seen the best of it yet. 

“Lucky me,” he says, pulling on the knot at my waist. 

“Bette and I also went to a lingerie store the other day,” I say. 

“God bless Bette,” he hums, as he pushes the silk aside. He hisses through his teeth as he pushes my robe away and it falls softly to the floor. 

“I just found this old thing,” I say, twirling a strand of hair around my finger and jutting out my hip. Hugging my every curve worth caressing is a black satin and tulle basque embroidered with purple, orange and pink flowers. I even went so far as to don black stockings and a dashing pair of black Manolos. I feel outrageously sexy and Chris seems to appreciate my efforts. 

“I’m glad you did,” he says, running his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Thank you,” I say. “You ready?" 

“For what?" 

“I don’t know,” I answer. “I honestly couldn’t decide who I wanted to have the upper hand this evening." 

“You can,” he says, “you already do, actually. And, if it’s all right with you, I would like for you to leave this thing on until it simply must come off. You’re so gorgeous, Clemmie. Fuck." 

“In that case,” I say, pulling his tie loose. He went for drinks with the guys after the French premiere and I returned to our hotel room for this occasion. He smells like his cologne, a little bit of brandy and his own scent, and I grin as I press my lips to his. I pull off his clothes as we slowly meander towards the bedroom, and I can feel the smile on his face. I push him onto the mattress and he laughs. 

"What are you going to do?" he asks, his grin undeniable and the twinkle beneath his eyelashes. 

"I want to appreciate," I answer, kicking off my heels. "I just want to take you in and appreciate everything about you. For starters, I would appreciate you not talking." 

He zips his lips shut and settles against the pillows. Running my bottom lip between my teeth, I study my specimen of a boyfriend. He’s perfect, stretched out exposed and lovely on the sheets. I could eat him. 

Crawling up the bed toward him, I smile as I hover over him. “Would you be mad if I just kissed you for a minute?” He shakes his head and a giggle bubbles up from my stomach as I lower my lips to his. I loop my fingers with his and push them against the pillow by his head, tasting a hint of brandy. He moans as I line our hips together and feel his cock nestled against the satin of my thong. I rock gently as my hand drops to his jaw and chest and his fingers curl in my hair. Stubble prickles against my lips as I kiss down his skin. 

“Keep your hands up here,” I command as I pull his wandering fingers from my hair put them back on the pillow. I feel him nod as I lick the shell of his ear, and he bucks beneath me as I suck the lobe into my mouth. 

I’m thinking of all the reasons I do actually appreciate him as I press my lips to skin, kissing and nibbling every so often. My hips have never quit their movement, and his chest hair is coarse beneath my tongue. He grunts when I shift and bite the dip of his pelvic muscle. Grasping his cock in my palm, I smile to hear his breath come in gasps. I don’t want him particularly messy though so I take him in my mouth. There’s a bit of moisture as I lick the tip and he grunts. I went from a girl who didn't even know anything about oral to a woman who loves having her boyfriend's cock in her mouth. He's so hard yet the skin is so soft, and there's a vein on the underside perfect for dragging teeth gently over. 

“Clem!” he shouts, his body shaking with an orgasm. After swallowing, I lick him a few times for fun before crawling back up his body and pressing my lips to his. Now he smiles as he kisses me, and I permit his hands to drift to my hair. “I love you." 

“I know,” I say. “I’m not finished yet." 

“No?" 

“No. I loved seeing you out there today,” I say. “How you handled all the press asking questions about yesterday." I trace circles on his skin as I stretch out beside him, propped up on my elbow. "I love how encouraging you were to others who may have a similar issue." He smiles at me, stretching and dropping his hand to mine. "I love how charming you are and how you exude humility and grace." 

Chris kisses me softly and I curl my legs up across his abdomen. He wraps his hands around my knees while I serenade his mouth with my lips, a simple duet just for us. After awhile, he begins to harden again against my foot. 

"I want you," he says. "Please." 

"Yes," I say, kissing him. "I need to get out of these stockings first though. Very good for feeling empowered and sexy but actually quite uncomfortable." 

"Do you need help?" he asks, his finger dipping between the tight sheer fabric and my skin. 

"No, thank you," I say. "I can get them off and this isn't a romance novel." 

"Feels pretty romantic to me," he says. I laugh, kiss the top of his nose and roll away from him. I prop my foot on the bed, toe pointed, and slowly roll down the stocking. Chris watches me with one eyebrow cocked. "And you said this isn't a romance novel, yet you're standing there taking off your stockings like Mrs. Robinson." 

"The Graduate is not a romantic movie." 

"True," he says, rolling onto his side. Fuck, he looks good. I place the stockings on my bag and study him with my hands on my hips. 

"You can, however, unhook all these clasps," I say, turning my back to him and pulling my hair over my shoulder. 

"Gladly," Chris says, scurrying across the bed. He kisses my shoulder as his fingers work their way down my spine. I lean back as his lips massage my skin, and I hold the basque in place. 

"You can sit back on the bed now," I say, turning around. "Enjoy the show." 

He smirks as he flops on the edge of the mattress and I shimmy out of the tulle and satin. Chris laughs, watching as I slip off my panties and fling them in his direction. 

I climb onto his lap, knowing I'm plenty aroused to ride him immediately, but it's more fun not to. Instead, I kiss him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and head while his hands cling to my back and waist. His hard cock is trapped between us and I love the feeling of it rubbing against my belly. I grab his hand from my waist and drop it on my breast as we kiss sloppily, and he doesn't need any more instruction than that. 

I giggle as he falls backwards, taking me with him. He smells impossibly good now, all man and all mine. It's then I take his cock in my hand and position it exactly where it needs to be so I can easily slide onto it. 

"Fuck," Chris hisses through his teeth, his hands sliding to my ass. 

"I love it when you curse like that," I say, rolling my hips. "You feel particularly good today." 

He nods, unable to speak and I smile, my clit grinding against his pubic bone and my breasts against his chest. I sigh as I sit up, pressing my hands onto his pecks. He's beautiful, his head thrown back with mouth agape, and I gasp as he grabs my breast. 

Warmth spreads through me as my heart pounds, my orgasm nearing. It's like eating a grape popsicle in the shade on a hot summer’s day, and Chris is the perfect companion. 

My nails dig into his skin as I come, and Chris moans with his own climax. I kiss him as I relax, rolling my hips a few times. I slide off of him and curl my body around his. 

"I love you," he says, twirling my hair between his fingers. “And not just because you’re really good at moving your hips and have beautiful breasts and a perfect ass that fits exactly in my palms." 

“Why do you love me then?” I ask, running my finger through his beard. 

“You’re forgiving and kind,” he says, “you always favor the good over the bad, and you bounce back like a rubber ball. You’re so creative and smart, you love others easily and you love me all the time. I just can’t believe you found me and you gave me a chance even when I was a super creep in a Darth Vader costume." 

“You should borrow that again,” I say. “That could be fun." 

“You’re turned on by Darth Vader?" 

“I’m turned on by the excitement of it,” I say. “Meeting a stranger at speed dating and then waiting for him in a bar, spending a wonderful night talking to you and then finding out it was you the whole time. It was refreshing, and look where it got us." 

“I’m in bed with you right now and I love you,” he says, “best creepy decision I’ve ever made." 

I stretch and curl back around him. “I’m hungry." 

Chris licks his lips and kisses my cheek. “How about we order room service and take a bath?" 

“Yes,” I say, “that sounds lovely. Have you used that tub yet? It’s beautiful." 

“What time to do we have to be somewhere tomorrow?" 

“You have to be at a photo call at two,” I say. “And then we get on the plane to meet Maimeó." 

“You think she’ll like me?" 

“You’re part Irish,” I say. “She’ll love you." 

“Is that all it takes?" 

“No, but it doesn’t hurt,” I say. “I hope you like her." 

“I’m sure I will,” he says. “What about that room service?" 

“You make the call,” I say, “and I’ll start the water." 

 

"Clementine!" Maimeó cheers, pushing back her chair. She hugs me fondly and kisses my cheek. "You look absolutely beautiful, my darling." 

"Thank you," I say. 

"And you must be the randy man who's come to claim my granddaughter's heart." 

"Guilty as charged." 

"Maimeó," I say, "this is Chris Evans and I love him. Chris, this is my Maimeó, Siobhan Rogers." 

They hug each other and Maimeó rubs his biceps. "I like him. You smell very nice and your arms are magnificent." 

Chris chuckles and slips his arm around my waist. "Thank you." 

"Three days in London with my favorite Clementine and her actor boyfriend," Maimeó says. "Who would have thought I would be here? It's very lovely." 

"Isn't it?" I ask. "How is your room?" 

"Breathtaking," she says. "Which floor are you on?" 

"We're on five," I say. 

"You're sharing a room? A bed?" 

"Maimeó, you know that ship sailed a long time ago," I say. "And it would be stupid to pay for two hotel rooms." 

"I know, little love," she says, brushing my hair. "Things have changed so much since my day, and you girls are much more of a 'take what you want' kind. It's refreshing, you know. When I was your age, I would have been shamed. Of course I was already married with two kids." 

"Progress, Maimeó," I say, "and a woman doesn't only have to have kids anymore." 

"How's your sister?" Maimeó asks. "Margaret, not July. I talked to July yesterday." 

"You talked to July?" 

"She's always calling me," Maimeó says, "something about how I'm the only grandparent who accepts her." 

“So July shares a bed with her girlfriend, August is a father as the result of one-night stand, and yet my sharing a bed with my boyfriend shocks you." 

"Last time I checked, lesbians can't get each other pregnant. August is very responsible with Ashton and Blair — he could have had nothing to do with them.  And from what July tells me, August loves Ashton very much, and not just because she’s the mother of his child." 

"True," I say. "Anyway, Margaret's fine. She and Richard are taking a trip to Belize next month and she's thinking there might be a ring." 

"God, that's good news," Maimeó says. "How long have they been together?" 

"Four years," I answer. 

"How long will it take you?" 

Chris laughs. "I don't know. We haven't settled on a timeline." 

"We haven't even known each other a year," I say. "My career is just taking off, too." 

"And my life presents certain challenges I want Clemmie to be completely comfortable with before we make any serious commitments." 

"I've already told him I am," I say. "You'll see how it is at the premier." 

"Do I get to be in the photos?" 

“If you want to be," Chris says.  

"The girls in my book club will love that," she laughs. 

"Do you have a dress yet?" 

"No," she answers. "I have a dress designing granddaughter for that." 

"We'll go shopping tomorrow while Chris is in interviews." 

"Is this what you've been doing this whole trip? Shopping?" 

"A lot of it," I answer. "It's all for my dresses though, and I've picked up souvenirs for everyone." 

"Well, how wonderful. If I had to pick any of you grandkids who would live a fabulous life, it would be you." 

"Thanks, Maimeó," I say. "I think we've all made pretty good lives for ourselves." 

"As long as you're happy," she says. "Where are we going to dinner?" 

"I have recommendations," Chris says, rubbing my hip. "Wherever you two would like to go is where I will happily take you." 

We end up at a small restaurant serving only the most authentic English fare; Chris and I on one side of the booth and Maimeó on the other. She likes Chris, I can tell, and she keeps giving me little glances, probably wondering where Chris's hand is. 

"If you'll excuse me," Maimeó says, "I need to use the restroom." 

"We'll be here," I say. She nods as she leaves, weaving between cozy booths. "So, what do you think?" 

"I see a lot of her in you," Chris says. "She's great." 

"I know," I say. "All fire." 

"It's amazing to hear about her move to America. Starting over like that." 

"Indeed," I say. "I think she misses America but loves Ireland too much to return." 

"She seems to be thriving in Ireland." 

"She is. We'll have to make a trip when we have more time so you can see the farm." 

"That would be great," he says. "I'll have a lot of time after Infinity War." 

"We'll have to plan it then. Are we thinking that far into the future?" 

"I certainly am," he says, kissing my temple. "What about you?" 

"Same," I smile, kissing him. 

"Look who I found," Maimeó says, interrupting us. 

There's a relatively tall man behind her with brown hair and a ginger beard, and he smiles when he sees me. 

"Michael!" I say, climbing out of the booth to wrap my arms around him. 

"Clementine Rogers," he says, squeezing me. "It's been too long." 

"It has!" I say. "Michael, this is my boyfriend, Chris, and Chris, this is Michael Fassbender." 

"Wow, Chris Evans," Michael says. Chris stands, suddenly his chest seeming broader and his jaw just a bit sharper. They shake hands and I'm worried it'll come to a point where they have to compare dicks. "Small world." 

"We used to play in Michael's yard when we would visit," I say. 

"She used to run across the grass naked," Michael laughs. 

"Don't make it sound like there weren't five other Rogers traipsing across the Irish countryside," I say. Chris is watching us closely, his eyes narrow beneath his baseball cap. "And it's not like you were ever there. You were always galavanting around on that motorcycle of yours." 

"Oh Clemmie," Michael says, his face stretching into a large, toothy grin. "A man never galavants on a motorcycle. Does he, Chris?" 

"I certainly never do," Chris answers, snaking his arm around my waist. He squeezes my hip. 

"How's everyone?" Michael asks. "Harrison still doing okay?" 

"He's great," I say. "If ever you're in the U.S. and need a flight down the east coast, he's your guy." 

"I'll remember that," Michael smiles. "And you?" 

"I'm doing really well," I say. "We're here for the press tour of Civil War." 

"We're both men of Marvel," Michael laughs. "It escapes me sometimes since X is it's own thing with a different company." 

"And how's your life?" Maimeó asks, apparently bored of our conversation. 

“Amazing. I have some time off between projects so I came back to London." 

"Excellent," Maimeó says. "Do you have plans for lunch tomorrow?" 

"No," Michael answers. "I try to keep an open schedule when I'm not working." 

"Well, Christopher has obligations to meet but Clementine and I are spending the day shopping. I would love to see you for a bit longer." 

"That sounds fantastic," Michael says. "Let me give you my phone number and we'll make plans." 

He's talking to me rather than Maimeó, and I reach for my phone. 

"It was wonderful to see you both," Michael says as he hugs us. He smells like firewood and a single malt; it's good but not as good as Chris. "Nice to see you again, Chris. I'm sure we'll run into each other at some point or another." 

"I'm sure we will," Chris smiles. His jaw's still clenched and his hand is territorially on my back. 

"He grew up nicely," Maimeó says. "Adele was worried, but he seems to have settled down a bit." 

"He's a great actor," I say. "I don't like his movies as much as my sweet Christopher's but they're still good." 

She laughs and kisses my cheek. "Of course they're not as good Christopher's. I'm tired. Let's go back to the hotel." 

We leave Maimeó on her floor, and Chris rests his chin on my head as we ascend. 

"So you knew Michael as children," he says softly. 

"We did," I say. "We were all children and he and Katherine were teens. We stayed with them one night when Daideó went to the hospital. You have nothing to worry about though, if that’s what you’re thinking. The last time I saw him was five years ago at Daideó’s funeral." 

“There’s nothing there?" 

“I promise,” I say. “I mean he was always cute when we were younger but I was a child, legitimately. Madge always liked him more than I did anyway. She used to squeeze his biceps and he would lift her up by them." 

“Okay,” he says. “Think of me when you’re at lunch though." 

“I think of you all the time,” I say, kissing his chin. “You have nothing to worry about." 

And he didn’t. Michael was perfectly amiable during our meal and Maimeó led the conversation the whole time anyway. We return to the hotel so I can make her dress with the material we bought that morning, and Chris finds me humped over my sewing machine. 

“How’s it going?” he asks, kissing the back of my head. 

“Fine,” I say. “Her dress will compliment mine which will compliment your suit. She really doesn’t have to be in the pictures, you know." 

“I know,” he says, “but she can be and that would probably be fun for her." 

“She would love it,” I laugh. “Thanks for inviting her." 

“Of course,” he says. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he answers it. “What? That’s ridiculous. Send me the link. Yeah, thanks." 

“What’s wrong?” I ask. 

“Apparently there were paps outside the cafe today,” he says. “Our relationship is doomed because you’re now seeing Michael Fassbender." 

“Aren’t I a little trollop?” I laugh. 

“They have pictures,” Chris says. He holds his phone in front of my eyes and thumbs through the photos. 

“These people will make a mountain out of a mole hill,” I say. “We had lunch as old friends with my grandmother." 

“Are you upset?" 

“Not really,” I say, “not as long as you know there’s nothing there." 

“Of course,” he says. “I trust you." 

“Good,” I say. “Is there anything I can do to assuage the situation? I can probably get Madge or Mom to send me a picture of Michael and I together in our younger years and I can put it on Instagram." 

“Do you think that will help?" 

“If people know our families are old friends,” I say, “maybe. You can ask Evi if you want." 

“I’ll text her,” he says. “She’s the one who sent the link." 

“Sorry about that.” I say, turning around in my chair. He’s looking at me with a little half smile, one I know means he doesn’t take it personally. 

“It’s not your fault. It would be easier to deny these things if you weren't so damn adorable." 

"I know," I say. "Shame on me for being so damn worthy of adoration." 

"So you want to get dinner in an hour with Bette and Sebastian? We can pick up Maimeó and Anthony on the way." 

"Sounds great," I say. "I'll have the bodice finished by then." 

"Excellent, button," he says. "I'm going to use the bathroom." 

"Thanks for the notice." 

Chris laughs and raises his hands in innocence. "It's not my fault traveling doesn't necessarily sit well with my stomach." 

"I love you, all of you, smelly poops and all." 

That was a rather interesting discovery on this trip — Chris does in fact have rather pungent poops when traveling. It was so foul the first night we had to open the door to the balcony in our suite in Africa. I did however supply him with Poo-Pouri and our lives have been much better ever since. He laughed to learn that was my secret. 

 

Maimeó twirls a curl of my hair and smiles. "This is exciting." 

"You'll see all the lights," I say, "and you may change your mind." 

“But you both keep doing it,” she says. “It must not be that bad." 

“I love Chris and Chris has to do this, so we do it together." 

"That's noble," Maimeó says, "now smile because you don't want to be shown up by me." 

Chris laughs and shakes his head as the car stops. "Someone will help you out, Maimeó." The door closest to him is opened and he climbs out quickly, turning around to help me. He sprints quickly around the car and takes my grandmother's hand. "My lady and her grandmother." 

Scott, Evi and Winston pop out of the car behind us, and Evi is immediately met by a handler. Chris's name is chanted by a group of fans on the other side of the barricade and Maimeó's eyes widen. Chris and Evi go to the fans and Scott finds someone else to talk to. 

"My my," Maimeó says, "it's simply racous out here. God, I would have loved this life." 

"Which is precisely why you married a scholar," I laugh. 

"Your grandfather was very good at what he did," she says. "Your father learned all those things about robots because of him." 

"He did and we're all very grateful." 

"Clemmie and Mrs. Rogers," Winston says, "if you'll follow me, we'll get you on the carpet when it's time." 

We wait on the sidelines with Bette and Angela as Chris, Sebastian and the others make their way through the first grouping of fans and photographers. 

"Clemmie! Clemmie! What are you doing with Michael Fassbender? Is it true he visited you at your hotel? Why are you still with Chris?" 

"That one's particularly nosy, isn't he?" Maimeó says. 

"It's his job, I suppose," I say. 

"I wouldn't worry about it," Bette says. "While Sebastian was filming this in Atlanta right after we had gotten married, there were all kinds of bizarre stories about who I was having an affair with while my hardworking husband was away supporting my severe gambling addiction. Seb and I ocassionally play strip poker, but I don't gamble outside of that. They'll say anything to get a read." 

"They should get a life," Maimeó says. "Ruffians." 

"All right, you're up," Angela says, taking Bette's hand. "We'll do this quickly so you can take a bathroom break." 

Bette laughs as she waves goodbye to us. "We'll see you later." I grin watching Sebastian's press smile transform into a genuine one as he takes her hand. She closes her eyes when he kisses her cheek and then they take their place on the red carpet. I feel a pang watching them, wishing Chris were already down the line. 

"Oh, Clementine," Maimeó says, caressing my cheek. "This is a good look on you." 

"Thanks," I say, brushing my skirt, "I did all the beading myself." 

"I don't mean your dress, Clemmie," she says. "Love, it looks good on you. You've got that glow in your eyes." 

"Can you really see it or is that just something people say?" 

"You can see it," she says. "It's in your laugh and smile, and in your case, it's the light in your eyes. Your father said he could see it in Chris." 

"He told me that once," I say. 

"You be careful though," she says. "Love is tough and a decision you have to make daily. Your relationship being under constant scrutiny will be an added difficulty, but not one you cannot bear." 

She takes my hand and squeezes it, tears rimming the bottom of her eyes. 

"Mrs. Rogers," Evi says, cutting through the crowd, "Clemmie, we're ready for you." 

Chris lopes over to us and his smile drops when he sees Maimeó. 

"Oh my gosh, is everything okay?" 

"We're fine, Christopher," Maimeó says, wiping beneath her eyes. 

"May I give you a hug?" Chris asks. "I'm a hugger." 

"Of course," Maimeó says, opening her arms. My boyfriend holds my grandmother with a genuine smile, and he winks at me. "I'm fine. You always want the best for your children, so you really want the best for the grands, especially since it's not your fault if something's wrong, and you two just make this old woman's heart happy." 

"Well, I'm glad we can do that for you," Chris says. "I love Clementine very much and I'm just happy to be in her life." 

"Everybody ready?” Evi asks. “We need to go now." 

“We’re ready,” Chris says, taking both of our hands. “Is it all right if I stand in the middle?" 

“That’ll be great,” Maimeó says. "Ladies' man." 

Chris stands with both of his arms around us and we smile while the flashes blind us. 

"Left to right," Chris says, "and we'll be finished." 

"Do you smile the whole time?" Maimeó asks. 

"It doesn't hurt," Chris says, his finger rubbing my skin in the gap between my top and skirt. "Nine to Five?" 

"Be My Little Baby," I answer. "You?" 

"Fire and Rain," he answers. "Good choice." 

"What are you talking about?" Maimeó asks, leaning forward. 

"The songs we're singing in our heads," I answer. 

"Easy! I Dreamed a Dream!" 

"Keeping it classic," Chris laughs, "great." 

Evi walks down the line of photographers, telling them how to spell Maimeó's name. 

"All right," Evi says after we pose at the two different spots. "Interviews." 

"What do we do now?" 

"We wait," I say. "Chris will do the line and then we'll go inside." 

"What did you think?" Scott asks, his breath heavy with the smell of tequila.  

"It's hectic," Maimeó says. "It was fun for one time but I don't think I would want to do it any more than that." 

“Chris hates it, too,” Scott says, “in fact if you’ll come with me, Clem and Maimeó, we’ll get his celebratory shot." 

“He used to get drunk at these,” I explain, “but now he’s limiting himself after he did some questionable things and gave some irresponsible answers." 

“It’s a strong man who can admit his problems,” Maimeó says. “That’s noble of him." 

“I think so,” I say. 

“He’s really been much better this time out,” Scott says. “I think we have Clemmie to thank for that." 

“Awe, thanks,’ I say, “but that was a decision Chris made for himself." 

“Clemmie! Clemmie!” A fan behind the barrier behind us shouts. "How does it feel to cheat on your boyfriend with another actor? Is this all part of your plan to climb the social scale? You didn’t get noticed until you started dating Chris. Funny how that worked out." 

“Shut the fuck up!” Scott yells over his shoulder. “Oh sorry, Maimeó." 

“I’m an old lady, Scott,” she says. “I’m no stranger to the words more colorful." 

“I was just going to ignore it,” I say. 

“You shouldn’t have to give up your life just because you’re dating a man who’s famous. You and Michael are old friends and that’s nobody’s business." 

“Which is exactly why I was just going to ignore her,” I say. Scott leads us to the bar in the corner and gets us each a shot. 

"Clementine doesn’t put much stock in what other’s think,” Maimeó says. 

“She doesn’t know about the nightmares and stuff,” I whisper under my breath. 

“Right,” Scott says. “Well, I know Clemmie is a strong, brilliant woman and I love her for it." 

“Thanks, Scotty,” I say. 

“To premieres, Clementine and her wonderful grandmother,” Scott says, holding up his shot glass. We toast and gulp and Maimeó cheers, “Another!" 

The bartender quickly meets our request as Chris comes bounding towards us with Evi and Winston, and we all toast together. Once inside, Maimeó pulls me aside. 

"I’ve had a wonderful time,” she says, “and as I know I mean the most to you as a grandmother, I give you my blessing. I know you didn’t ask, but it’s there." 

“Thank you, Maimeó,” I say. "I'm glad you approve." 

"I never liked that other boy, you know, that short one with the bad hair." 

"Yeah, he wasn't great," I say. 

"Well, Chris is," she says, "so stay happy. And please consider Siobhan for a baby name." 

I laugh as I hug her, and she kisses my cheek. 

 

Chris rolls over and smiles. "All of this shit is better when you're here." 

"I'm glad you feel that way," I say. "I've really liked being part of it." 

He moves swiftly under the covers and pulls us closer together, his leg wrapping around both of mine. Leaving his arm tightly around my back, it's difficult to say where he ends and I begin, and I smile at him. I rest my hand on his cheek, my thumb brushing against the end of his grin. 

I could stay with him forever here in this bed. I could lay and learn the number of freckles on his skin but would never know the true number, just as the stars in the sky. I could study the different smiles he has for different things, and I could remain snuggled and warm against his chest. It’s not even about being happy anymore — I am incandescently happy — but this is more than that. I want to share everything with him — the highs, the lows, the best moments and the very worst tragedies. My chest feels like it’s simply too full, and my fingers tingle to just touch his skin. 

He chuckles. “God, Clem. You make my heart explode!" 

I giggle as I turn my face into the pillow to hide my smile. Chris put exactly what I was feeling into words his words, and that’s precisely what this was. Not even needing to say anything in reply, I kiss him.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very NSFW. Be warned. Thanks for reading!

"Is it finished?" Chris asks, blocking the sun as I unlock the door. 

"It is!" I say. "And you'll have to get used to it because I'll be spending a lot of time here." 

"I wouldn't expect any less," he says, following me inside. 

"Now this is just the entry way," I say. "We're going to hang a picture on that wall, and then we'll set up a table to display wedding goods with the trends and season. I'm also going to bring one of my dresses here. The whole first floor will be for waiting and staging. We can do sample arrangements here for each bride to look at. That’ll be neat." 

"That sounds great," he says. "I can see it now." 

"I hope so," I say. "I love the idea of bringing brides in. The only unfortunate thing is the elevator is at the back, but it is a freight elevator so I'll have no problems getting things up and down. They're going to paint the grates so it'll look more like an elevator for weddings and less like a death trap." 

"I don't know that anyone would be turned away by an elevator," he says, "especially when I know you'll do amazing things with the rest of it." 

"Thanks, prince," I say, locking the door behind us. "Now, we take these stairs which will lead us to the landing where the Morganstern Weddings of Boston offices will be. Mine's the biggest one at the back. There are only four, but you know, you're dating the V.P. so that's impressive." 

"I'm very impressed," Chris says with a smile, his hands on my hips. 

"And now this stair case leads to my studio, where ninety percent of Clementine Rogers dresses will be designed and sewed." 

"The suspense is killing me," he laughs, pretending to bite his nails. I turn on the step above him and kiss his lips. "We should go see it before we get carried away. I still have that errand to run, not that it's more important or anything." 

"Of course," I say. "Let's go. I’m very interested in the errand you’ve been talking about all day." 

We make it up the last few steps, unlock the door and I flip on the light switch. 

"Wow, Clem," Chris says, his eyes circling the room. "Incredible." 

"Thanks," I say. "I just really wanted to have my own space and make it mine." 

"You certainly did," he says. "It's beautiful. You think your clients will like it?" 

"I certainly hope so," I say. "I thought this could be a staging area, you know, so the bride can try on several dresses while her guests wait and I’ll have plenty of room to make alterations and whatnot. This is the intern's desk, this bigger table is for Patrice and then that big section at the back is for me." 

“So much space for such a small person,” Chris says, crossing around to my desk. He sits down in my chair and spins in a circle. “This chair is very comfortable." 

“I’m glad you think so,” I say. “I know you’re probably interested in christening my atelier but we have more important things to do. But what do you really think?" 

“It’s really beautiful,” he says. “I love the wall accents, the couch, the rug, the windows, but most especially the girl who made it all happen." 

“Awe, thanks,” I say. “I’m bringing the dresses up tomorrow, so maybe we can christen it then. The Clementine Rogers studio is not officially open, you know, so it doesn’t really matter." 

“I will be here whenever you want me to partake in activities of a sexual nature,” he says, taking my hand. “It’s very beautiful here, that couch looks very squishy and that rug looks very plush. I look forward to making love with you on all of these surfaces." 

“Good,” I say. “Besides, it still kind of smells like paint in here. I’m going to open the windows tomorrow to try and get some of that out. Now let’s go run your errand." 

He pulls me forward and kisses me. “I’m proud of you, button, and I’m so grateful you moved here, and that we get to spend our lives together." 

“I’m happy too, prince,” I say. "Thank you for letting me move into your home." 

"My name might be on the title but it's your home now," he says, “and you’re welcome to do whatever you want to it. I know it’ll look amazing." 

"I really just want my own little study," I say. "I don't care where it is." 

"Take my office," he says. "I never use it. Paint it pink or purple or whatever color you like." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Of course," he says. I ruffle his bangs as I kiss him. 

"Now let's get to this big important errand." 

"Let's!" Chris says, standing up so quickly with his arms around me I'm lifted into the air. He carries me down both flights of stairs, wobbling between the railing and wall as he goes. 

He drives for half an hour to another little suburb of Boston and the we're on the outskirts of town. My eyes widen when I see the sign hanging by the fence of a huge house. 

"We're getting a puppy?" 

"Yes!" He says, turning into the concrete driveway. "And they're all rescued so you don't even have to worry about that." 

"Oh my gosh! A puppy!" 

Chris parks in front of the house and runs to open my door but I'm already outside. He laughs as he chases me up the stairs. 

"Just ring the doorbell, right?" I ask, my finger outstretched as the front door opens. 

"Mr. Evans!" The woman says on the other side. "I'm so glad you could make it out today." 

"Thank you for having us, Ms. Perkins," he says, taking the screen door from her. "This is my girlfriend, Clemmie. The puppy will be hers." 

"It's going to be ours but I'm glad you're letting me pick the precious one!" 

"Come inside," she says. "We are a rescue center so all the dogs here are up for adoption except for Brownie." 

The chocolate lab at her hip pants happily as the woman pets it. 

"You're doing such a wonderful thing here," I say. "Amazing." 

"Thank you," she says. "This is my daughter, Leslie. She can help wrangle a puppy. While you're welcome to choose any puppy, Mr. Evans thought you might like the border collies." 

"My last dog was a Bernese Mountain dog and she was beautiful. A border collie sounds like a wonderful idea." 

"They're exceptional pets," Ms. Perkins says, leading us through her home. Dogs and even a few cats crowd around us, barking, sniffing, and mewing. Naturally Chris and I have to stop and pet them along the way. "Border collies are friendly, great with tasks, children and other animals. They'll be very loyal to you and those close to you, and I think you'll especially like the dog when your babies become toddlers, if that's something you're going to do." 

I giggle at that and grab Chris's hand. "No babies yet." 

Ms. Perkins smiles at us as she opens a door. Inside the room is a metal barricade, keeping a beautiful red border collie and her puppies inside. 

"Piper was rescued from a mill," Ms. Perkins explains. "She was pregnant when they saved her and now she's given birth to five. They're ready to be given a home at any time." 

"You can pick any," Chris says, "but I thought you might like her." He easily reaches over the metal grate and scoops up the tiniest puppy. She's a lovely lilac colored one and she's completely precious. She fits perfectly against my chest and she licks my chin. 

"How did you know?" I ask, scratching behind her ears. 

"She just looked like you," he says. 

"We've been calling her Sunny," Leslie says, climbing into the cage to play with the rest of the puppies. 

"I like Sunny," I say, "but she's sort of regal, don't you think?" 

"I think any name you give her will be perfect," Chris says, kissing her head. "You two look good together." 

She nibbles at my finger. "Something like Elizabeth Taylor or Lady Mary, but not Lady Mary because we hate her." 

"You always liked Lagertha," Chris suggests. 

"I do," I say, "but she doesn't look like a Lagertha. She's not an Arwen or Eowyn either." 

"You don't have to pick today," Chris says. 

"She can be registered with the AKC," Ms. Perkins says. "Normally we ask all our pets to be spayed, but we will waive that for the two of you since Mr. Evans has expressed interest in puppies." 

"I think that would be great," Chris says. "We love puppies." 

"I love this one," I say. "Ginevra isn't right and Morganstern will think it's after her if I go with Minerva. She doesn't look like a Hermione or Luna." 

"Kate Middleton," Chris laughs. 

"That's on the right track," I say. "Maybe I should name her North, you know, since you had East." 

"Yeah, but people would just think you're naming her after Kimye's baby." 

I frown. "True. Maybe she's a Grace Kelly." 

"That's pretty." 

"Or a Dame Helen Miren." 

"That's good, too." 

I scratch behind her ears and she nips at my palm fondly. "What is your name?" 

"Chip Bag," Chris offers. 

"Nooo! What about Darling?” I ask. She barks and rubs her muzzle against my chest. “Darling?” 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, after Wendy Angela Moira Darling from Peter Pan. I thought about Gamora after our favorite guardian but Maimeó would hear that and think I was offending our proud Catholic heritage." 

"Yeah, we don't want that," he says. "I actually like Darling. It’s cute since she is one.”

"Mr. Evans already started the paperwork," Ms. Perkins says, "but we can finish it now if you are sold on her. She is the runt so she is smaller, but she is perfectly healthy." 

"Wonderful," I say. "I can't believe you got me a puppy!" 

"You picked her out," Chris says, sliding his hands around my waist. 

"I think she wanted to come with us," I say. "Look how sweet she is." Darling has crawled up my chest and is licking my chin. "I love her." 

Chris chuckles and we follow Ms. Perkins through her house to the office, and Chris finishes the paperwork while I hold the puppy. She really is lovely, with blue eyes and patches of light brown and white fur. Her little ears flop forwards and she smells like goodness. 

I kiss her head as Chris shuts my car door when we’ve finished everything, and she doesn’t even stir from all the movement. “We have to go to your mom’s now." 

“What?" 

“I have a gift for you, for your birthday, that I’ve been having your mom watch until it’s your birthday, but I figure now we can go and get it. I hope you like it as much as I like Darling." 

“What? What did you get me?" 

“I can’t tell you,” I say, “but it’s supposed to be a surprise. Call your mother." 

Chris starts the call over Bluetooth and Lisa answers within seconds. “Christopher!" 

“Hey ma!” he says. “Are you home?" 

“Yes,” she answers. “Why?" 

“Clem and I are coming over,” he says. “She said you’ve been keeping a gift for me." 

“Hey mom!” I say, scratching Darling’s belly. “Chris took me to get a puppy so we’re coming over to get his present." 

“Oh, you got a puppy?” she asks animatedly. “How lovely. I will get the gift ready then." 

“Thank you so much, mom,” I say. “I’m excited!" 

“I know Christopher will be too,” she says. “I’ll see you two kids when you get here. Would you like to stay for supper?" 

I shrug at Chris and he smiles. “Sure, mom. We’ll see you in a bit. Do you need us to stop or anything?" 

“Nope,” she says. “I was making lasagna so there’s plenty anyway." 

“Thanks,” I say. “And thanks again for keeping the gift." 

“Of course,” she says. “I’m excited to see your little puppy too." 

We sing to the radio and talk about all the things I’ll have to buy for Darling, and I giggle as we pull into Lisa’s driveway. 

“I’m excited,” I say. “I hope you are." 

“I am,” he says. “Anything you get me has to be good." 

“All right,” I say. “Hold onto your britches." 

The front door is open and Chris holds it open for me. “Mom, we’re here." 

There’s a tiny bark and Darling howls in my arms. I set her on the ground and she takes off down the hall. My heart races as the little golden retriever rounds the corner and smells Darling. 

“There he is,” I say. 

“Oh, hi!” Lisa says. “I was getting his things ready when you arrived. He’s an excited little thing." 

“Chris, meet your puppy,” I say. “I didn’t know you were getting me a dog so I went looking and this little one took a liking to me and he was just so adorable and he looks so golden just like you." 

Chris sinks to his knees of the floor and pets Darling and his puppy. He picks up the little golden retriever and cuddles him against his chest. Chris laughs as the dog licks his neck. 

“I love him,” Chris says. “I really do." 

I laugh as I sink to the floor next to him and sweep Darling into my arms. “We’re so silly." 

“He’s perfect,” Chris says, tears in the corner of his eyes. “I can’t believe there’s a dog in my life again!" 

“We’ve been calling him Puppy,” Lisa says, “but he can’t keep that forever, really. What are you going to name him?" 

“To go with Darling,” he says, “I think he’s a Slightly as well as anything else. Fitting, not really a name either." 

“I like it better than Chip Bag,” I say. “A dog deserves a better name than Chip Bag." 

“You’re right,” Chris says, cuddling the puppy. 

“He is AKC registered and I’ve found a trainer who can get him certified as a service dog for anxiety,” I say. “If he completes the program, he can officially be added to the list, he’ll get a vest and you can legally take him anywhere with you." 

“Awe, I didn’t even think to do that,” Chris says. “Do you think we can get Darling certified?" 

“Probably,” I say. “It’ll help make her case since I’ve been attacked." 

“Who would have thought something positive could come out of that?” Chris asks, sliding so he’s back against the wall. I crawl towards him and lean against his side, both of us holding our puppies. “Awe, look at his little paws." 

“This is fantastic,” he says. “These two puppies are the second best thing we’ve ever done together." 

“What’s the first?” I ask, gently flicking Darling’s paw with my finger. 

“I shouldn’t say it in front of my mother,” he whispers, brushing his nose against my cheek. 

“Can I see the babies?” Lisa asks, coming back into the hall. “I would like to go to the living room though because I don’t think I could get back up if I sat on the floor." 

“Of course,” Chris says, standing easily and pulling me up after him. We follow her into the living room where Slightly's bed, food bowls and a few toys are scattered across the floor. I bought enough stuff to keep him occupied until Chris's birthday, and Lisa has taken superb care of the puppy. 

We play with them for a couple of hours and eat dinner with Lisa, and then we load the puppies into the car. 

"I can't believe how perfect that was," Chris says later in bed, Slightly asleep on his chest and Darling curled up under his arm. "I thought I was being all considerate and sneaky taking you to the puppies and you already had one for me." 

"I knew you'd been talking about getting a dog and I did a lot of research into it," I say, petting Darling's back. "Golden retrievers are supposed to be some of the best and most loyal dogs, and I thought you might like that. Also, he's the most adorable little chunky puppy." 

"He is chunky," Chris laughs, he looks at Slightly before looking at me. "I know I've already told you like eight times today, but I love you." 

"I love you, too," I say, kissing him. Slightly yawns and we both laugh. "And I love our new babies." 

Chris kisses the side of my head as Darling crawls towards me. 

 

This is a big step. 

It's a big step I'm willing to take. 

I pull on my robe, take a deep breath and open the bathroom door. 

"It's after midnight," I say, crossing the floor to our bed. Chris sits in his boxer briefs with a book in hand but he closes it and looks at the clock. 

"So it is," he says, his face spreading into a cocky grin. "Does that mean something?" 

"You know it does," I say, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. I press my lips to his just once before pulling back. "Happy birthday." 

"Thank you, button," he says. "I get the feeling there's more." 

"There is," I say. “Birthday sex is a given, you know that. You gifted me with it on mine so now it’s your turn. Would you like to open your present, Slightly aside?" 

The puppies are asleep in a little bed in the bathroom. Normally they stay in our bedroom but I moved them for the night. I love them but I don't need them getting in the way right now. 

"Please," Chris says, his voice a little huskier than usual. I run my bottom lip between my teeth before standing in front of him. I gently pull the sash of my robe but turn my back towards him. I'm bare except for a pair of black underwear with a ridiculous bow at the hem, the tails of which hang to my knees. 

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Chris asks, his fingers lightly on my skin. 

"Yes," I say. "My bum is all yours to do whatever you like with." 

"Clemmie, are you sure?" He stands up and turns me around, concern flooding his features. 

I nod. "I am. You enjoy it, maybe with you I can learn to enjoy it. I've actually been working up to this for the past couple of months and I feel ready. I do have some conditions though." 

"Yes?" 

"I would like to have an orgasm first. I don't care how or if I do it myself, but I think that will help me relax." 

"Easily done," Chris says. "What else?" 

"I have a blanket for us to use and I would really like to do that." 

"Anything," Chris says. "What's the deal with the blanket?" 

"I made it," I say. "I got the idea from Bette, but my version is better. It's got five layers — satin, terry cloth, vinyl, terry cloth and finally a plush minky. The vinyl stops any liquids from making a mess in your bedspread or wherever, but my addition of terry cloth adds absorption as well as a noise barrier to the vinyl. It's a little more padded too. Enough to about boring blankets though, that's purely for function. We will use plenty of lube and you will wear a condom. I bought some for you that should fit just fine, and I think eventually I'll be okay without you wearing one. Just for the time being, I don't think I want your milky goods hanging around in my most precious cavity." 

Chris laughs, his hands splayed across my back. "I am fine with all those things. Anything else?" 

"I think we can do it doggy style, as dumb as that sounds," I say, "but I only want you to put the tip in at first. I'll move when I'm ready, if I'm ready. Is that okay?" 

"Of course," he says. "You know your body better than I do." 

"All right," I say. "Are you ready to unwrap your present?" 

He nods, kissing me fervently. I moan as his hands slide beneath the bow of my thong and grasp my bum. "I'll take care of you." 

I know he will so I nod and take his hand. Once we get the blanket situated and his hands washed, a naked Chris stands me by the foot of the bed. 

"What did you mean you've been working up to this?" 

"Take a peek," I say, feeling rather confident. He gently pushes me down on mattress and pulls the panties from my body. I watch his face curl into a smile when he examines my most private crevice and the green gem that sparkles there. 

"You're plugged?" He asks, his finger gently pressing the gem. 

"Yep, I've been stretching it out for awhile," I say. "I don't want the real thing to hurt so much and plugs don't actually feel that bad when you get them in. This is my third. I also can get a fairly decently sized vibrator up there." 

"Fuck, that's single-handily the sexiest thing I've ever heard. I love you, and I really want to give you the best orgasm of your life right now." 

"Proceed." 

Instead of heading straight for my clitoris, Chris crawls over me and grasps the jar of coconut oil we use as lubricant. Slathering his fingers with it, he drops his hands to my shoulders and massages my clavicles with his thumbs. He kisses me as he rubs both of my arms all the way to my finger tips, and I feel my muscles relax beneath his touch. It isn't long before his deft hands slide back up to my shoulders and down my chest. I hum as his hands knead my breasts, my already perky nipples stretching further. 

Sucking my nipple into his mouth, he laughs. “That’s the thing about coconut oil — it actually tastes good." 

Ruffling his hair with my fingers, I groan as he continues to massage my breasts and abdomen. He drags his nose down my middle, and he hums when he dips his fingers back in the oil. 

“Your skin is so smooth,” he says, rubbing his thumbs against my hips. My legs are both slathered eventually all the way to my toes. Completely relaxed yet extremely turned on, Chris finally moves the pad of his thumb to my clit. I buck under his touch and he keeps his other hand just below my belly button. “How does that feel?" 

“Amazing." 

“Good. Roll over." 

“What?" 

“I want to do your back. Don’t you like my hands on your skin?" 

I was rather hoping to get straight to the point, but I guess I’ll let him have this one. I roll over onto my stomach and he brushes my hair off my back. I feel like jelly as he rubs my shoulder blades and arms, then his fingers glide across my back. 

“What are these two little white dots back here?” he asks, his fingers pressed against the pale and small scars at the tip of both hip bones. 

“I’ll tell you later,” I answer. “I have a feeling if I tell you now I’ll lose my courage and you won’t get your birthday present." 

“But you’ll tell me?" 

“Of course,” I say. 

“Okay,” he says, resuming his massage. It’s no surprise he spends a great amount of time on my bum, easily his favorite part of my body. Every now and then his thumb presses against the plug, and I sigh when he moves along to my legs. When he’s rubbed my feet and toes, he spreads my legs apart a little further and separates my bum cheeks. He grunts and I giggle. 

“How does it look back there?" 

“I’ve never been to Heaven,” Chris answers, “but I really hope it looks something like this." 

He gently tugs the plug partially out before gingerly pushing it back in, and I moan as he does this several times. He slips fingers from his other into my vagina and rubs quickly against my g-spot sending me into an orgasm that has me crying out. Everything feels too tight as my muscles clench around the plug and his fingers, but it is the best feeling in the world. 

“I’m going to take it out now,” he says, his fingers around the edge. I grasp onto the blanket as he smoothly pulls the plug. “Fuck, that’s way bigger than I thought it was." 

“I told you I’ve been working up to it,” I say. “Do you like tha— OH!" 

He’s replaced the plug with his finger, working the tight rim. Soon, another finger joins and I moan. After a few minutes, I suppose he’s pleased with the stretch of my skin. 

“You ready?” he asks, backing off me. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to." 

“No, I want to,” I say, pushing myself up on all fours. “Condoms are in the drawer and remember not to move once you put it in." 

“I’ve got it,” he says. “We’ll go at your pace." 

Of course he’s so hard he could poke out an eyeball and I watch as he rolls the condom down his shaft. 

“This feels weird,” he says, swaying side to side so his cock bobs in the air. “Lambskin. Who knew?" 

“You’re such a dork." 

“A dork who’s about to tear your ass up!" 

“Please don’t,” I say with a nervous giggle. 

“I won’t.” he says. He kisses me once. “I promise." 

He coats himself with oil and pulls me to the edge of the bed, my bum high in the air. I hold my breath as his hand rests on the bottom of my spine, only to release it in a gasp as he breaches the rim. The room is silent except for the hum of the air conditioner and I steady myself. My jaw drops slowly as I push back, feeling him stretch and fill me. It isn’t painful but it’s not exactly pleasant, and I know Chris is practicing all manner of restraint with one hand wrapped around my thigh and the other still resting at the base of my spine. It’s odd to even think it at the moment but warmth spreads through me with his love. He’s being so considerate and obedient, and I know he doesn’t want to hurt me; I feel even more ready for this than I had ever thought I could. 

“You okay?” he whispers, his voice deep with lust and determination. 

“Yes,” I manage, shifting from side to side on my hands. I rock forward on my knees, relishing in him sliding backwards and then I move back again, feeling the friction. This really isn’t so unpleasant at all. “You can move. Slowly, please." 

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. 

“It actually feels pretty good,” I say. “Just don’t go too fast." 

Chris takes my hips in his hands and pulls backwards, causing my fingers to twist up the blanket. He keeps the slow pace for awhile, and he’s hitting some spot inside of me that feels amazing. In fact, I can feel something dripping down my thighs. 

“Faster." 

He happily obliges and I’m moaning with every push, my eyes screwed tight and my knuckles turning white in the blanket. 

“You feel so good, Clem,” he mutters with gritted teeth. “So tight." 

“Hyungggg.” 

He shifts one of his hands around to my breast and pinches the nipple. That’s when the dam breaks — my arms give out as I fall forwards, everything ripples away from me. Chris laughs as his hips slap against my ass and I try to remember to breathe. 

“Do you know what’s happening right now?” he asks, slowing his pace a little but never stopping. 

“No…" 

“You’re gushing, Clem. It’s amazing.” 

I do feel rather odd, and it's obvious liquid is rushing out of me with every thrust from him. 

"Wow." 

"You okay?" 

I gasp, nodding my head even though my cheek is pressed against the blanket. 

"Almost there!" 

I back my ass up into him and reach for his hand. He grunts as he stiffens, thrusting incredibly slowly. I don't even wait to for him to pull out but rather sink forwards, flattening myself like a pancake. 

Chris flops down next to me seconds later after a quick trip to the bathroom and drops his hand across my waist. 

"Are you okay?" He asks, running his fingers through my hair. 

Smiling, I manage to swing my hand to his cheek. "I feel very euphoric. I'm sure it'll hurt tomorrow but right now, nope." 

He grins. "Thank you for my birthday present. That was fun." 

"Thank you for taking it slowly." 

"Of course," he says. "How about we rest up, drink some water, rinse off and snuggle into bed with our puppies? That would really be the best follow up to my birthday present." 

"I would like that." 

He shifts so his face is next to mine and kisses me lazily. 

An hour later, I lay on my front in my nightgown with Darling curled next to me, her floppy ear by my nose. 

"This is the perfect night," I say. "I love you and our puppies." 

"Me too," he says. "I'm sorry this will be over soon." 

"I am too, but we'll still have nights like this when you wrap. I'll visit you and you'll have to come here sometimes. We'll be okay." 

"I know," he says, petting Slightly's head. "Tell me about the spots." 

"They're scars from bone marrow donations," I say. "I didn't even know they were really still visible." 

"This is the first time I've noticed them and I've looked at your back quite a few times." 

"They don't bother me or anything — I'm not self-conscious about them. They're just there." 

"Who did you donate to?" 

"Harrison," I say, running my finger over Darling's leg. "He was diagnosed with Leukemia when he was five. They had tried a few medications and procedures — lots of chemo — with no avail, so the doctors decided a bone marrow transplant from a sibling was the best option. The doctors thought the twins were too young, so Mom and Dad sat us older three down and explained to us what was happening. 

"Of course we knew something was going on," I continue, sliding my finger from Darling's ear to Slightly's paw. "We were at the hospital all the time and Harrison was missing school. So Mom and Dad asked the three of us if one would be willing to donate and I didn't even hesitate. I wanted to do whatever I could so Harrison could come home and play with the rest of us. Turns out I was a perfect match so they scheduled us for the procedure. Grandma and Grandpa came to watch everyone else but Mom and Dad took me to the hospital. They had me in a gown in a separate bed in Harrison's room, and Mom and Dad were sitting with me. I asked them if it hurt to die. Even to this day I remember the look on their faces, such confusion. Dad said, 'Why are you asking about death, flower?' To which I answered, 'Because I'm going to die so Harrison can get better. They're going to take my bone and give it to him.’ I didn’t really understand the process, of course. Mom wailed and Dad ran over to me. He explained that they were just going to take a little bit of bone marrow and that I would be fine, even though I'm pretty sure I was unconvinced. Anyway, the surgery went great, Harrison was declared cancer-free a few months later and we were both okay. I think the best part was I got to stay with Harrison that night at the hospital and we ate chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs and watched Aladdin. I was willing to die so Harrison would live with little to no reservation about myself. I also believe that's why my family feels so protective of me, aside from being the smallest, they're worried I give too much too easily. I think it's a rather admirable quality myself." 

Chris smiles and laces his fingers with mine. "It is, but I can see why they would want to make sure you're not overly giving. You're not a door mat and you wouldn't want to become one." 

"True," I say. "Optimism is hard to come by though, so if you have the slightest ounce, you have to share it." 

"That's one of the reasons I love you," he says. "Why didn't I know this already?" 

"It was twenty years ago," I say. "Harrison is well versed on the symptoms and gets checked every year. It's kind of like how Shana was adopted and it's not a big deal to your family. It's just a part of our history. Harrison doesn't want kids because of it, but Mom is hopeful he'll come around since that's not necessarily how Leukemia works." 

He runs his thumb over my knuckle. "You were right to not want to tell me earlier." 

"That's what I thought." 

"Yeah," he says. "Anal sex seems so crass after something like that." 

I laugh and Darling licks my nose. "Sex is sex, isn't it? I felt pretty good afterwards — hats off to you. You'll have to tell Scott your thoughts." 

"What?" 

"I didn't just go into that unprepared and your brother has more butt sex than anybody else I know." 

"You talked to my baby brother about butt sex?!" 

"Why not? And he's older than I am. He was very helpful with suggesting toys and lubes and positions. If you were pleased with my performance, you should probably hug him." 

"Oh my God," Chris says, rolling into his back. "Time to go to bed, puppies." He sets Slightly into the little cushion on the floor and takes Darling from me. "I need some time alone with this beautiful lady and I don't want either of you getting hurt." 

"What are you doing?" 

"First of all, I'm blown away you were willing to let me in the back door. Secondly, I'm so impressed you took the time to ready yourself. Third, I'm amazed and a little embarrassed you talked to my brother. Fourth, I can't believe I didn't know about Harrison's Leukemia and what you did for him. Fifth, I am so in love with you and so turned on by everything about you and the lengths you're willing to go for something I enjoy, my dick is so hard if you won't agree to make love with me right now, it's going to explode and we will never be able to have sex again, anally or otherwise." 

"Oh my, we don't want that, do we?" I ask, rolling over and straddling his hips. I kiss him as his hands push my nightie up to my ribs. "I think thirty-five is going to be a very good year for you." 

"If this is any indication," he says, shuffling out of his boxer briefs, "it's going to be the very best."


	18. Chapter 18

The house is too big without Chris and Slightly in it. Darling has come to be a most delightful companion, and I'm afraid Chris will be upset when he discovers she sleeps in our bed — she's just too damn cute to leave in her puppy cushion.

He's started pre-production on Infinity War, but I had to stay behind to work on the offices and make a few day trips to New York for the filming of "Say Yes to the Dress."

On the upside, I will definitely see him at Comic Con and he even agreed to paint his costume for the Masquerade and no one should know it's him. He's learning to use stilts in his spare time so that'll make it even better. 

My phone rings and I run to answer it. "Hey, sister!

"Clem, Richard and I broke up," Madge says softly. She's not crying now but I know she has been, and I sink into the closest chair.

"I am so sorry," I say. "Do I need to come home?"

"No, no. I'm okay. I just wish I would have ended it sooner."

"When did it happen?"

"About five minutes ago," she says. "He's gone so I can get my stuff."

"That's horrible. Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"I'm sure," she says. "It's funny — I've lived here for a year and everything but clothes can be packed in one box." She sniffles. "Anyway, Mom is on her way to help me get my things and then it's back to the burrow for awhile."

"You could take your stuff home and come stay with me for a few days," I say. "I'm lonely and I am going to New York this weekend so you should come keep me company."

"You're lonely?"

"I love the puppy Darling, but yes, I do get lonely. This house has five bedrooms and I see maybe two of them on a daily basis."

"Would Chris be okay with me coming to his house?"

"Of course," I say. "It's my home now and you're my sister. Please come."

"Okay," she sighs. "It would be nice to run away for a few days."

"You're not running away," I say. "You're simply visiting your dearest sister who is lonely. We can work on the costumes some, too, and I know Chris's mom would love to meet you. Do you need me to make the arrangements?"

"Nah, I'll call Harrison and see if he can get me out."

"All right," I say. "Let me know when where to pick you up. I love you, sis."

"I love you, too. Thank you, Clemmie."

I call Chris but get his voicemail knowing he's probably off learning how to kick Thanos's ass somewhere. Or something. He's been very secretive about the whole thing, except I know he's passing the shield and stars and stripes along, and Sebastian is taking his place. I call Winston and let him know, just in case.

A few minutes later, I receive a text from Harrison stating he'll be bringing Madge up in a few hours. I check the wine cooler to make sure it's stocked with all the good stuff and then I take a trip to the grocery store to pick up Madge’s favorite ice cream and ingredients to make fettuccini alfredo, her favorite.

Harrison calls to let me know he won’t be staying so we can do “girl things,” but I put sheets on the bed in the basement just in case. I am so excited to have someone staying with me. Darling follows me everywhere I go, and I'm amazed to see how much she's grown in a month.

My phone rings as I finish making the bed for Madge and I smile. "Hey, prince. How's it going?"

"It's hot," he says. "How are you?"

"Excited! Madge is coming to stay for a few days — is that all right with you?"

"Of course that's all right. What are you going to do?"

"Well, tonight we are wallowing," I say. "She and Richard broke up, and I convinced her to get away."

"Clem, that's so thoughtful of you," he says. "I hope you have a nice time, wallowing aside."

"Like me, Madge doesn't stay down long," I say. "She'll be fine. We're going to New York for the weekend, too."

"Take her out to dinner on me," he says. "Since I can't be there right now, I'd be happy to do that for the two of you."

"Thanks," I say. "Tell me about your fight training. And you can go into detail because I miss your body."

I watch the little plane glide smoothly across the runway and wait as it turns the corner. Harrison parks smoothly and the door opens.

"Is that my new niece puppy?" Madge asks, stepping off the plane. "Clem, she's gorgeous!"

"Thank you," I say, holding Darling against my chest. "Madge, meet Darling Amelia Rogers-Evans."

"Rogers-Evans, huh?"

"Yes, with a hyphen," I say. "He is her male care giver after all."

Madge laughs and scratches Darling's head. "Well, hello there."

"Hey Clem," Harrison says, pulling Madge's bag off the plane. "You look good and happy."

"I am," I say. 

Paris pokes her head out of the door and waves. "I would come down but you know how wobbly my legs get on the plane."

"It's all right," I say. "You stay there and just know I'm glad to see you."

She smiles and shies away into the cabin.

"She's been air drinking again," Madge says. "I wanted to wait until I had both feet safely planted on land before I got drunk. Don’t need to throw motion sickness on top of that."

“I am well stocked on all the beverages you like,” I say as Harrison, Madge and I walk to my car. I pop open the trunk and Harrison slides her bag in the back. “That bag is for you. It’s got all your favorite traveling things in it."

“You made me a Clemmie Cares package?"

“I did,” I say. “I wanted to be sure you had sustenance even if you weren’t going to stay for dinner."

Harrison takes the bag and sorts through it. “You even got gummy worms."

“I did,” I say. “You need anything else?"

“Nah,” he says. “I’ll see you soon. Take care, darling Madge. Richard was a decent guy but you deserve better. I love you both.” We have a group hug before Harrison climbs the steps back in and closes the door.

“We should wait for them to leave, right?” Madge asks.

“Yes,” I say, “I usually do. But if you’re in need of a pick-me-up now, I have for you those little animal crackers with the icing and sprinkles — the pink and white ones — and I also have a single shot of whiskey for whenever you’re ready. I only have the one though since it’s illegal to have open containers on the road."

“Little Clem,” Madge laughs, swinging her arms over my shoulder. “So considerate of me and the law."

“We don’t want to be arrested or ticketed on top of being lonely and sad. That would just make it worse."

“True,” she says. “How long is the trip to your house?"

“Forty-five minutes."

“I’ll take the shot now."

“Good,” I say, pulling the tiny glass from another bag in the trunk. She takes it and I throw the cup back into the bag. “You’ll have to hold my sweet Darling on the ride home. Hope you don’t mind."

“No, of course not,” she says, watching Darling smell the tire. “And your new car. How grown up you are!"

I laugh. “You know it’s a company car."

“I know,” she says. “My company couldn’t afford a car."

“You own your company,” I say. “I got into a well-established one and moved quickly up. There’s a big difference."

“I don’t know how much longer I’m going to own my company,” she says. “My third of it anyway. I just don’t know."

“Madge, you want to give up your part of the bakery?"

“Maybe,” she answers with a shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe. Can we talk about it later?"

“Of course,” I say. “Look, the plane’s taking off anyway. Now I’ve got a pot of fettuccine waiting to be cooked so let’s go."

The plane rolls down the runway and quickly disappears into the twilight. Madge manages to be really outgoing and holds it all together until her third glass of wine. That’s when the dam breaks.

“Four years! Four years we’re together and for what? I just looked at him and asked him what we were doing. After four years we either know how we feel about each other or we don’t, right? I mean, you should know that after a year, right? A year is a long time in a life. But four with nothing. He said he wanted kids but he never wanted one with me. He said he wanted a wife but he never bought me a ring. Four years and we’re on a trip and he wants nothing to do with me. Four years and it all goes to shit. I think I knew it was over a long time ago. He lost interest in the stuff we once liked. Four years. And then you and Chris! I see you and Chris together and I want that. He looks at you like hung the moon! I mean, you basically did but he knows it. Richard just looked at me like I complicated his life. What the fuck?"

I let her cry and drink it out, even if that’s not the healthiest of combinations and get her into bed just after midnight. Madge and Care helped me when my engagement fell apart, and I know what it’s like to feel that kind of hurt. I was the one who ended it, just as Madge was the one who ended her relationship with Richard, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it hurts any less.

Making breakfast the next morning, I call my prince.

“Hey, pretty lady."

“Good morning. I hope I didn’t wake you."

“Nope,” he says, “I’m just on my way to the gym for some boxing and jiu-jitsu."

“Sounds fun and limbering,” I say. “If Madge feels up to it, I’ll take her to my barre class in a bit. Listen, I just wanted to call and tell you I love you. I love everything about you and the way I feel when I’m with you, and sometimes even when I’m not. I had to call and let you know."

“I love you, too, Clementine Rogers. I miss you immensely."

“I miss you, too,” I say. “We’ll have to work this out next time so I can come with you."

“Well, after this filming, I’m officially a free man meaning production times should be shorter. I might retire all together."

"I will love you whatever you do," I say. "Tell a girl what you're wearing."

Chris laughs and I smile as I scramble the eggs. "Oh Clem, I really do love you."

Madge is healing. It won't happen over night, or probably over the course of a few weeks, but I know one day she'll wake up and thinking of Richard won't hurt anymore. He'll be a thing that happened and shaped her, but it won't be painful. I think the best thing to help is New York.

We catch the train early Friday morning, our suitcases, two dresses and my sewing kit in tow. Bette and Sebastian are in the Hamptons now that Murphy's been born and Sebastian doesn't have to report yet, but she offered us their apartment which is more than nice. We make ourselves quite comfortable in two of the guest rooms and head to Kleinfeld. I know it's not Madge's ideal afternoon, especially after being single when she had thought she might be engaged, but she helps me fit a bride and even picks out another bride's dress from my line. We go shopping afterwards and end up eating with some of the sales consultants who then take us to a club.

Again I have to call Chris in the morning. "Don't freak out."

"About what?" Chris asks.

"I'm going to dinner tonight and Michael's going to be there," I say. "There's a chance we'll be photographed."

"Why would I freak out?"

"I just didn't want you to think something was happening," I say. "He's in New York for a few weeks and was actually thinking of coming down to Boston but I told him I'm already here. Madge doesn't know and she's going to flip her shit. She hasn't seen him in awhile and I know she would love to."

"Clem, it's okay," he says. "You don't have to explain why you want to have dinner with a friend. I do have a question."

"Yes?"

"Are you trying to set Madge up with Michael?"

"What? No! I would never!" Damn, he knows me well. "Really, it's too soon and Michael lives an ocean away most of the time. It'll just be fun for them to be together."

He chuckles. "I'm sure. Thanks for sending me that picture earlier. I like seeing you and Darling."

"I'm glad. She's keeping me warm while you're away."

"And in our bed, too."

"Ahhhh! You weren't supposed to know that."

"It's fine, Clementine," he says. "You're little enough that we should be able to fit Slightly, Darling, you and me in the bed when we're all together."

"You seem to be forgetting how much space you take up when you sleep."

"True," he says. "I do stretch out."

"We'll figure something out," I say. "Maybe we can buy a twin and attach it to the side. I'll stitch sheets together so there's plenty of room for everyone."

Madge trudges into the kitchen with her T-shirt hanging off her shoulders and purple bags beneath her eyes. She heads straight for the coffee pot and slouches on one of the barstools.

"Hey, Madge is up. Can I call you later?"

"Of course. Send me a few pics of your day, will you?"

"This would be easier if you had a SnapChat, old man."

"Har har. Tell Madge I said hi and you two have fun. Will you wake up if I call you tonight?"

"Absolutely! I look forward to our late night phone calls. I love you."

"I love you, too."

I set my phone on the counter as I shovel eggs onto a plate. Madge wrinkles her nose as I place it in front of her.

"Eat. It'll help."

She frowns but stabs the eggs with a fork. "Fine. I feel awful."

"A shower and a bit of makeup will fix all that. We're going to dinner tonight with my friend and it's going to be a lot of fun, so let's take the day to find a pretty dress, fix our hair, get our nails done and enjoy the evening. My treat. Well, dinner's on my friend, actually, but I'll get everything else."

"You don't have to do this, Clemmie. I'll be fine, really."

"I know you will be, but there's no reason I can't take my big sister out for a day on the town. We are in New York, after all."

"We are," she says, "and I do love this town."

"Good," I say. "So does Taylor Swift so let's get out there and sieze the day."

Finding Madge a dress was trickier than I thought, not because she doesn't look great in a lot of the dresses, but because she's gained a few pounds recently and feels horrible in everything she tries on. And then it's back to how Richard lost interest in her because of the weight gain which is so not true. Finally we find a stunning blue dress which makes her eyes pop and fits her perfectly, and Madge decides it doesn't look awful on her. Breakups can be very hard on one's self-esteem. Honestly, she looks fabulous. I take her to Bette's hairdresser, Holly, who completely transforms Madge's hair, cutting, curling and coloring it. I know Madge actually likes this change and the finished product is adorable.

"Where are we going?" She asks, putting in her earring.

"I don't know exactly," I say. "It's called something silly. I have the address though and my friend said it's really good."

"Who's this friend?"

"Oh, his name is Michael," I say. "I think you'll really like him."

“Whatever,” Madge says. “You know about dresses — do you really think this one looks okay?"

“I think you’d look great in anything really,” I say, “but this dress really is beautiful on you."

"You say that because you're my sister," she says. She turns in the mirror and smooths the skirt. "My ass does look pretty good though."

"Right?" I laugh. "You ready?"

"Sure," she says. "Save me, New York!"

The cab ride is short and the air is fair as we climb out.

"Name?" The host asks, her beady eyes sweeping over us.

"Erik Vandongislong," I answer, trying to keep a straight face.

"Clemmie! You can't just make up a name!"

"Right this way," the hostess says. I narrow my eyes at Madge as we follow her through the building. She laughs and shrugs.

"There they are," Michael says, standing from the table.

"Michael!" Madge gasps. I step out of the way as they cling to each other and Madge laughs. "I can't believe it's you. Clemmie just said we were meeting her friend Michael. I wouldn't have ever dreamed it was you."

"Oh, Margaret Aideen Rogers," he says, putting her at an arm's distance to look at her. "You look so beautiful. You're well?"

"Getting better," she answers. "And you?"

"Fine, just fine," he says. It's then he finally notices me and smiles. "And sweet Clementine."

"Hi, Michael," I say. Madge and I sit together on one side of the table and he takes the other, and I let them have the conversation. Madge's glow returns over the course of the evening, like dinner with an old friend is just what she needed. He makes her laugh, buys us drinks, and then we've far outstayed our reservation.

"Could I see you back to your hotel?"

"Oh, we're staying at a friend's house," I say, "but you're more than welcome to come with us. They're in the Hamptons so it's just us."

"That would be wonderful," he says. "Let me get the tab and we'll go."

Madge grabs my hand beneath the table while Michael talks to the waiter and she squeals.

"God, he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen, right?"

"Not to me, no," I say, "but he is very handsome."

She smiles. "Thank you for getting me into this dress and out for dinner. It has been a lot of fun."

"Of course," I say. "I've enjoyed the evening too. Now let's get in that car and go back to the apartment."

Madge giggles and pulls me up after her. It's a beautiful night as we take to the street and Madge hooks her elbows through mine and Michael's.

"It's gorgeous, isn't it?" she asks, looking up at the city and lights. Her pale face glows beneath the screen above us. "Who needs stars?"

Michael laughs and gazes upwards. "Do you remember Ireland? The stars are quite breathtaking there."

"They are," she says, "but this is New York! I bet there are more songs, books and movies all written about New York more than any other city in the world. Everybody knows her name and it's in the air! Can't you feel it?"

"I think someone's feeling the three Cosmos she had," I tease.

"You come to New York often," she says. "It doesn't mean as much to you."

"It is beautiful," Michael says. "I think you can feel it. You can feel something in London, too."

"I like London," I say. "It's wonderful."

"It's been so long since I've even been to London! Take me with you, Clem."

"You can come visit me any time you like," Michael says. "Both of you, that is. Or just one of you."

I have to stifle a giggle. We take Darling for a walk when we make it back to the apartment after Michael declares it's unsafe for me do it alone which I appreciate.

It's odd being the third wheel with my sister, but it’s a part I am happy to play. They fall onto the couch together and sit impossibly close, turned in towards each other. I plop onto the love seat with my dear Darling and an ache in my chest for Chris. Answering only when my presence is acknowledged, I grin when my phone rings.

"It's Chris," I say. "I'll go to the other room."

I slide my finger across the screen to connect the call as I dash for the hallway with Darling racing behind me.

"She's crazy about that guy," Michael says softly as I duck into the room.

"Hidy-ho," I say. "How are you?"

"So good," he answers. "I had a lot of fun training today. Hemsworth got here this afternoon so it's always fun with him, and then I had dinner with Hayley and James."

"Oh, how much fun! How is everyone?"

"Good, good," he says. "They're very excited Agent Carter's sticking around for another season since the fans have liked it so well. They're both so talented they deserve all the praise. How's Michael?"

"Um, about five minutes away from snogging my sister on Sebastian's couch. What do I do if they do the sex in one the beds? Do I burn the sheets and buy them new ones? Do I fumigate the whole room and pray for the best? If this were a hotel, I'd be like, 'Screw it, do the sex on any surface you like.' If I owned it, I'd be like, 'Screw it, do the sex on any surface but that which is personal to me and keep it out of the kitchen.' But this home is on loan and Bette was so nice about it."

Chris chuckles. "Easy, killer. If Madge and Michael should give into their carnal desires, just call Seb's cleaning service. He highly recommends them for removing all manner of stains."

"I don't think I wanted to know that."

"Besides, don't they always say the best way to get over a man is to get under a new one?"

"That's true — they do say that. I need to go get Darling's bed out of the living room. Walk with me?"

"Of course," he says. "Did you hear back from that bride?"

"I did," I answer. "We're going to make arrangements for her to come to the studio and I'll do her a custom."

"That's exciting! Congratulations."

"Thanks, prince. Oh my gosh!" I duck back behind the wall. "They're making out!"

"You sound like a little girl," he chuckles, "but I love you all the same."

"I just can't believe it! I mean, I can because they're both great and beautiful people, but she got out of a four-year relationship, like, five days ago! She's always been more cautious in these matters so I just can't believe it."

"Are you watching them?"

"What? No! I'm hiding behind the wall. I'm not creepy. Although, I do think I could probably walk out there, get Darling's bed and they wouldn't even notice. I'm very spry, you know."

"I do know," he says. "Sometimes you move through the house so silently I find you in a completely different room without so much as a trace. You're like the wind."

"I do love that song and Patrick Swayze."

He laughs again. "I could talk to you for hours."

"I have nothing else to do for the near and foreseeable future," I say. "Tell me everything."

Over an hour later when our conversation has turned to sleepy, slurred words and listless giggles, Michael makes the definite sounds of leaving.

"Goodbye, Clementine!" He calls through the apartment, and I sit up so quickly Darling jerks awake with a feeble yip. "Sorry for usurping your sister!"

"More like slurping, am I right?" I mutter.

"You need to go to sleep," Chris guffaws. "Go say goodnight to them and get to bed. I love you and miss you."

"I love and miss you, too," I say. "I'll call you when we make it back to Boston."

"Sounds good," he says. "Good night, button."

Michael and Madge stand by the elevator, their hands clasped. They smile at me, both looking a bit disheveled but quite happy.

"Michael was just saying he would like to take us to brunch in the morning before we catch the train," Madge says. "Would you want to do that?"

"Sure, if you want me there. If you were trying to drop I subtle hint my presence wasn't actually desired but I was invited out of social pleasantries, I missed that hint. So if you would like to be alone, I'll find this place with really good cronuts Bette suggested."

"We could go for that if you wanted," Michael says. "I've never had a..."

"Cronut," Madge supplies. "Regular brunch will be just fine and of course you're invited."

"That's just lovely then," I say. "Anyway, good night, Michael. I've got a puppy who's quite upset by my disappearance so I won't linger. Glad we could do this and I'll see you later."

He hugs me tightly and kisses my cheek. "Good night, Clem."

"Night, Madge."

"Night."

I skip off to the bedroom I claimed and wait for the ding of the elevator. I know Michael's left a few seconds later when Madge's footsteps echo down the hall.

Bounding off of the bed, I catch her. "So?"

"So, he's still everything he was when we were younger, only he's better." She smiles thoughtfully at the ground. "And he's a really good kisser."

"I knew he had to be! I know this doesn't mean anything at this point but I'm really happy for you."

"Thank you," she says. "It was nice to just feel desired, you know, even with the pretense it means nothing. It felt like he finally saw me, not the girl who used to sit on his shoulders while he ran away from his mother. I just had a lot of fun in that space of dating. Why do we ever stop? Like, why do we get so complacent in our relationships to not even dress up and go to dinner, even if our precious and adorable sisters tag along?"

"Har har," I say. "Well, if this is nothing or if this is something, I wish you all the happiness in the world and you deserve it. And speaking from experience, as long as Michael's in the business, there will always be an awards show or gala to attend in a pretty dress and have dinner prior to the event. That may become a little less exciting, but it will never become boring. I'll come down with a horrible stomach bug overnight if you really would like to brunch alone."

"No, come to brunch. We wouldn't have reconnected if not for you. And what are you going to do otherwise?"

"I could catch a bus out to the Hamptons and see Bette and Sebastian."

"I'm not letting you take a bus out to the Hamptons just so I can be alone with a boy."

"He's got a lot more to offer than any boy I've ever met if you catch my drift."

Madge snickers and punches my arm. "You're ridiculous."

"But you know you love me! And you know I'm right."

"I mean, I didn't see it personally yet but you totally are right."

“As I always am,” I say. “Anyway, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night and sweet dreams of Michael."

“Yeah, you too about Chris,” she says. “Thank you for bringing me to New York."

“Of course, shady lady,” I say. “I’m glad you’re here."

She hugs me and skips off to her room. I dial Chris as I walk to bed where he talks me to sleep.

Madge and I stand in Times Square, simply taking it all in. A breeze rustles my curls, the fresh smell of pretzels fills my nose and a youth choir sings on the corner.

“Fuck it,” Madge says. “I’m moving here."

I spin to look at her with wide eyes and grab her hand. “What?"

“I’m moving here,” she says. “Why not? Liv and Oz can run the bakery without me. I have nothing aside from the family keeping me in North Carolina. Look at you! You’ve been out for years and look how far you’ve come. If I’m here, I can do whatever I want. I’m sure I can get on a bakery somewhere — I have a great portfolio."

“Madge, I think that’s great,” I say. “Really. If you want to move, that’s fantastic. I think you could really blossom here."

“You think?"

“One hundred percent! I would probably see you more here too! Madge, yes! Move here! When you’re ready, I’ll come with you and help you find a place. In fact, you should get a two bedroom apartment and I’ll cover some of the rent so I don’t have to stay in a hotel every time I come here. I could actually bring a machine and leave it here. Oh my gosh, am I running away with your dream? I’m so sorry. I just think it’s a brilliant idea and I fully support it. I’ll even back you up with Mom and Dad. Liv and Oz you’ll have to tackle on your own."

“Clemmie, thank you,” she says. “I think I really want to do it. I would love to get a two bedroom apartment so you could just stay there. It’s time I try my own thing. I’ve loved every second of working at the bakery with Liv and Oz, but they have that under control."

“If it doesn’t work out,” I say, “you can always just move to Boston."

“I’m moving to New York.” Madge says. She flings her arms into the air and shouts. “I’m moving to New York!"

“What’s this?” Michael asks, approaching us from behind.

“My darling sister Madge is moving to New York!” I say.

“What?"

“I am,” Madge says. “It’s happening!"

“What? That’s amazing. Congratulations.” He hugs her and then keeps ahold of her elbows. “Wow."

“Thank you!” Madge says. “I’m excited."

“And you should be,” he says. “Let’s celebrate."

I don’t know what will happen between Madge and Michael, if anything at all, but I do notice her smile every few minutes as we ride the train. This will be an amazing new chapter for Madge and I want the very best for her.

“Chris!” I say as the chat window connects. “Fantastic news! Madge is moving to New York."

“That’s great."

“And I hope you’re okay that I am going to go in a bit on her rent so she can afford a two bedroom. I’ll just stay with her whenever I go up now."

“You don’t want to stay at a hotel?" He scratches his forehead but his smile is adorable.

“Not really,” I say. “Think how much fun! I could have sleepovers with Madge. I can also set up a workspace in the apartment rather than having to move in and out all the time."

“That sounds really nice. Are boyfriends allowed to spend the night as well?"

“I should definitely hope so,” I say. “When are you coming home?"

“A week, right after comic con,” he answers. “Do you know what you just said?"

“Home?"

“Yes."

“Well, that’s what this is, isn’t it?"

“I love it when you say that. Home."

I sit back in my chair and smile. "Being here means a lot to me. You know I found your shield the other day? Why do you keep it hidden?"

"It just stays in the closet," he says. "I don't really have use for it."

"For shame."

He laughs. "You look beautiful today."

"Thank you," I say. "I miss your face."

"I miss yours too."

"How about I send you a video if you make me one?" I offer, shrugging off the shoulder of my blouse revealing the soft lace of my bralette.

"Yes, please," he says. "Will you wear something like that next time I see you?"

"For you, anything."


	19. Chapter 19

"Christopher Robert!" I cheer, my heart leaping into my throat at the very sight of him. His face softens into a grin as he catches me, his arms warm and strong.

"Hey, button," he says quietly, his lips against my ear. "You feel like home."

"You feel like a naked mole rat," I say, pulling my head away from his shoulder and looking at him. "You shaved!"

"I'm Steve now," he says. "For the next nine months, I'm Steve. And that's not the worst of it."

"What's that?"

He puts my feet on the ground and lifts of the hem of his shirt to reveal silky smooth and completely hairless skin.

"Ahhh! Where'd your sweater go?" I ask. "You're like really naked now."

"I know and it's horrible," he says. "Why wasn't I Wolverine?"

"You're too soft for Wolverine but just honorable enough to play Steve. It could be fun though. We could do that thing with the strawberries and chocolate and you'll be much easier to clean this time."

He smiles as he slides his hand in mine. "That sounds promising. Did you have any trouble getting into the room?"

"Nope," I say. "They were very nice and a young man carried the boxes up."

"Excellent. You want to come meet some important people?"

"I love important people." I smile as he pushes open the door.

"Is this her?” someone asks.

"This is her!" Chris says. "Everyone, this is Clemmie. Clemmie, everyone."

The room is full of Chris's costars in Infinity War, some of which I've already met from the Civil War press tour. Everyone is wonderfully nice, especially Chris Hemsworth. I giggle when we make it to Chris Pratt and Anna, and she kisses my cheek.

"Always happy to see you, Clemmie," she says with a wink. 

"You too," I say.

"We'll go get drinks later," she says deeply, "when the men are busy and my boy's with my mom."

"Sounds excellent," I say. She squeezes my hand excitedly before following Pratt through the crowds.

"She really likes you," Chris whispers in my ear.

"She's adorable," I say, "and funny. Chris is very blessed."

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning to brush his nose against my ear. "Me, too."

"I don't want you to shirk your duties, but how long do you have to stay?"

"I suppose I can leave anytime now," he says. "Why? Is there something you were wanting to do?"

"Just you," I answer, looking up at him through my lashes.

"Yes, ma'am!" He grabs my bum quickly before tapping Mackie on the shoulder. "We're going to cut out for awhile."

"Would expect anything else," Anthony chuckles. "Take care of Captain Little Ass."

"I think his ass is perfectly sized," I say, "but I'll be sure to take care of it anyway."

Anthony whistles through his teeth as Chris turns the color of a tomato, and then he's chasing me out the door. The elevator is too slow so we take the stairs back down to our floor.

"You look so beautiful, Clem," Chris says as the door closes behind us.

"Thank you," I say. "I changed clothes once we got here. I thought I should look less traveled if I were meeting your friends."

"You would look beautiful in a garbage bag."

I smile as I stand on my toes and kiss him. He leads me towards the sofa where he falls onto the cushions, taking me with him. I laugh as I straddle his hips and his beardless chin tickles my skin.

"No hair," I say, running my fingers over it. He grins before pressing his lips to mine and soon his T-shirt and my dress are on the floor. It's been too long for us to be apart.

He unhooks my bra and tosses it, and I sigh when my chest finally brushes against his.

"Chris— AH!"

I scream as my head whips towards the door where Winston and Scott both stand.

"Don't you know how to knock?" Chris shouts, pulling me against his chest. "Get out!"

Scott laughs as he pulls Winston with him. "Sorry, Clem."

The door shuts quickly behind them and I'm off Chris's lap in a second. I click the lock on the door and push the arm of the safety lock across.

"You don't want to stop?" Chris asks, his face red and chest heaving.

"I haven't had you alone in weeks and I'm not about to let a little interruption keep me from you. Unless you want to stop."

"Nope," He stands, unzips his fly and unbuttons his pants, and he drops them and his boxers. "I'm very much good to go."

"Good," I say, "come here."

"Where are we going?"

"The bed," I say. "I have this thing about sex on shared surfaces, right? Like, do you think the couches and chairs of a hotel are sanitized? At least they should be changing the sheets. I wouldn't want my children sitting on someone else's sex couch."

"You're so considerate," he says.

"Protecting myself, too," I say. I kiss him before I pull the sheets back. Chris jumps onto the bed and lands on his back. I lean on top of him and run my finger along his jaw. "This sucks, you know."

"What?" He asks, his featherlight touch raising goosebumps along my spine.

"We were apart for a few weeks and it was horrible. You're going to be away for months and it's just going to be poop." He sighs and opens his mouth, but I drop my finger across his lips. "But we're here now and you'll be with me for the next few weeks so I'm not going to worry about it. To the here and now!"

"You sure?"

"I can feel your boner dropping the longer I sit so yes, the here and now."

"A functioning dick once hardened can be hardened again, but to the here and now," he agrees, grasping my bum with both hands. I missed that slight stretch one experiences when sliding onto a fully erect and thick cock, and I hum with appreciation. I move for a few shifts before looking down at Chris.

"Who are we kidding?" I say, pushing off of him.

"Clem, what?" Chris asks, jerking up.

"I'm just turning around, you dweeb. I know I have a pretty face and nice breasts but you've not seen your favorite view in such a long time." Now straddling him with his legs stretching out before me, I slide back onto him and move.

"You are perfect," he groans, his hand sliding from my bum to the base of my spine. "Such a lovely round thing. Two perfect cheeks."

He grasps each one in his hands and squeezes, causing me to laugh.  "I know you so well."

I lean forward and grab both of his big toes which makes him jerk and gasp.

"Fuck, Clemmie."

I smile, playing with my breasts as I bounce, knowing just the way to play him and make him sing. It doesn't hurt when I drop a hand to my clitoris and rub gently in time with my hips.

"Clem!" I know that's his way of saying he's close so I slow down. It's been too long for it to be over quickly. "What're... why'd ya... keep..."

"It's been too long," I answer. "We should savor this."

"How is it that... I'm fucking panting... and you're... just fine?"

"Especially when I'm doing all the work? I guess it's just you, old man."

He pushes at my ass with both hands and I scurry off of him, knowing that'll set him off.

"No, no, no," he says, getting on his knees behind me. "I want you just as incoherent."

I shrug, which he doesn't like, and my blood rushes with excitement when he curls his body around mine. He's not gentle but he hits that spot inside that feelssofuckinggood and mytoescurlasmyjawdrops and hishipsslapagainstmyass and...

"Speak."

"Christopher!"

He bites my earlobe and slides a hand to my clit while he pounds into me from behind. "You're so fucking fuckable."

I smile as I knot my fingers in the sheets, flames spreading through me. It burns the way whiskey does going down, but this is so much better. I'm not breathing so much anymore as I'm just letting out short moans with each thrust.

"Speak."

I shake my head this time, my mouth hanging open and my thighs burning. His teeth sink into my shoulder and I groan, the shockwaves running through me. It's exactly the kind of orgasm you hope to have when you've been away from your love, all-encompassing and one that leaves all your muscles happily stretched. Chris slows down long enough for me to ride out the first one before pulling backwards on my hips so my arms are outstretched and my breasts are touching my legs. My ass, his favorite part, hangs in the air. He runs his hand over my spine before he shifts.

"Close?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

"Yes."

I slip forward, his dick sliding out of me with a whine from him. I simply flip onto my back beneath him and bend my legs up.

"I want to watch you."

He nods before pushing back in, and I smile as I kiss him, greedily rubbing his tongue with mine. His thrusts speed up as my head drops back to mattress, his beautiful bare jaw between my hands. His gaze is intense as he moves with an open mouth, and I giggle. It's nice to be fucked by someone you love. His head drops to my shoulder as he comes, his breath hot on my skin. Sinking on top of me, his hips shift long enough to pull out but I tighten my legs around him.

He kisses my shoulder before nuzzling my cheek with his nose.

"You're so naked!" I laugh, rubbing my cheek against his. "You've had a beard the whole time we've been dating, did you know that?"

He chuckles. "I know. I hate it too."

"No, no! I don't hate it!" I say, pushing up his face so I can see his smooth features. "It's beautiful, really."

"I feel like a kid."

"I think I would feel worse about the clean chest. I don't hate it either though. Feels nice."

I wiggle beneath him so his chest tickles mine. He kisses me while he slips his arms beneath me, bringing us as close as two people can be.

"You're just the best," he says.

"I know," I say.

"What were you even doing in speed dating?"

"What were you even doing speed dating?" I repeat.

"Fair enough," he says. "It's hard to meet people, you know. Hemsworth and Scott talked me into it, and Winston got the costume. There was never a guarantee I was going to meet somebody, especially that I would meet you."

"You didn't know this little ginger hobbit would win your love and your heart and warm your bed?" I ask, running my hands along his back.

"Nope, wouldn't have seen you coming."

"Well, as you know, it had been four years after I broke off my engagement." He frowns for just a second before blinking away the disdain. Instead he slips his fingers in my hair framing my face. "I didn’t date anyone for at least a year, not even casually. I just didn’t feel like it. Things were going really well with Morganstern so I channeled everything into it. Then I went on a date with a florist which was okay, so I went on a couple more dates. All very fun, but never anything serious. Then I had a boyfriend who was an engineer but we had our problems even though we were together for quite awhile, so it was back to casual dating, just finding what I didn’t like and what I did like, and then we end up at Comic Con last year." He kisses the line of my cheekbone. "Care’s with Dixon, Madge’s with Richard and I was alone. They signed me up without my knowledge and dragged me to the room, but I decided, ‘Why not?’ and went on in. There was a Castiel and a Ronan I liked, and then there was this asshole dressed like Darth Vader who didn’t really say anything but apparently picked me out of all the other women, and for whatever reason I decided to meet him."

“It’s kismet."

“Or is it Chris-met?” I joke, running my fingers through the fine hairs at the base of his head. Chris laughs.

“Oh, I’m in love with a nerd! A real, bonafide nerd!"

“Don’t act like you’re not one either. I’ve seen your Star Wars collection. Did you get that many Han Solo dolls as gifts or did you buy some yourself?"

“Han Solo is the king!"

“Only because he fell in love with a princess."

“True," he says. He sighs as he buries his face in my neck. "Oh, we should get up."

"We should," I say. "You've got some painting to do and we have to see my beautiful siblings!"

"We do, do we?"

"Yes, and I want to go see the baby."

"She is very cute," Chris says. "You think our babies will be cute?"

"Of course! Your nieces and nephews are precious, my nieces and nephew are precious, we both have attractive genes. Our babies will be models from birth."

"You think?"

"Definitely," I say. "Now up."

He groans as he stretches and rolls off of me, kissing my cheek.

"Let's take a trip, just you and me, and we'll get there, lock the door and remain naked the rest of the time."

"You finish your movie and we'll do just that," I say. He follows me back to the living room of the suite and we pick up our clothes.

"I didn't even think to ask where Darling is," Chris says. "I'm a horrible father."

"She is with her uncle Tobias," I answer. "I left her in very capable hands, and he's being paid nicely to watch her."

"I just forced Slightly on Scott," Chris says. "Maybe I should pay uncle Tobias nicely to watch him, too."

"He would take it and he's very good with dogs," I say, making sure my skirt falls back into place. "Do I look put back together?"

I twirl for him and he smiles at me. "You look great. Let's go get our babies and look at Bette's."

"Maybe we should see Murphy first," I say.

"That's novel," Chris says. "Two dogs around a little baby is probably not good."

After a quick trip to Bette and Sebastian's hotel room to visit with them and sweet Murph (who is absolutely perfect and adorable), we take Scott and Slightly with us to the hotel where my siblings are staying.

"Look how beautiful you are!" Liv says, opening the door. "All three of you and the dog."

"Thank you," I say. "How's everyone?"

"Madge isn't here yet," Oz says. "She went off with Michael, you know."

"Oh yes!" I say, clapping my hands. "Michael."

"Michael who?" Scott asks. "Did Madge get a new man?"

"Michael Fassbender," Chris answers, "and maybe."

"What?" Scott laughs. "That's amazing!"

"Isn't it?" I say. "It's about time. Anyway, you want to see everybody's costumes?"

"Yes!" Scott and Chris say at the same time.

Our collective theme this year is Guardians of the Galaxy, and we all have a part to play, including Chris and Scott. Care and Dixon decided to skip the festivities with the baby on the way, so it's nice to have the two Evans men.

Chris doesn't have an actual panel to attend, but Marvel thought the exposure would be beneficial to Infinty War. Chris hasn't told many people, and Sebastian, Bette, Scott, and I might be the only people who know outside of the producers, but Chris is bowing out of the franchise at the end of it. He'll be in an interesting place when it's all said and done, and I hope it's not too bold I'm already prepared to take the time off.

"Will you take me to walk the floor?" Tobias asks. "I brought some costumes if that helps."

"Of course," I say. "Who do you want to be today?"

Somehow, a fan girl somewhere found Tobias's Instagram account and once it was apparent he was the attractive brother of the woman dating Chris Evans, he became quite popular on the web. I knew Chris would prefer not to have attention drawn to him, so I asked Tobias to bring some costumes. Tobes doesn't mind his fans.

"I brought The Joker," Tobias says. "That'll be easy enough."

"Great," I say. I turn to Chris behind me who has Darling against his chest. "Do you mind if I take Tobes to the floor? You could come too, if you wanted, put Spidey to good use."

"I think I might," Chris says. "I've never really gotten to walk the floor. I didn't even last year."

"Great," I say. "It'll be fun. No one will know it's you. So Spider-Man and The Joker, I'll be Catwoman. Scott, you wanna go?"

"Who would I be? I haven't brought anything!"

"We've got a Stormtrooper or Batman," Oz says. "You could borrow them for awhile."

"Batman! He's sexier!"

"Deal," Oz laughs, walking to one of his suitcases.

"All right," I say, taking Tobias by the shoulders. "Let's get you ready and then we'll run by our hotel."

"Okay!"

It is fun walking through all the booths with Chris, Scott, Tobias, July and Lizzie. Chris feels better being unrecognizable in the large crowd, even though we're stopped for pictures every now and then because our costumes are amazing. We buy a few things we don't need but that's half the fun, and Tobias is so excited to see everything. Chris uses his special privilege to get us all into the green room, and Zachary Levi is the only person of consequence in it at the time being, but he's enough to make Tobias happy. Chris promises to bring Tobias again, and Zac invites all of us to the super secret Nerd HQ party.

Comic Con is always fun but it's a lot better when you know someone with connections.

"Are you having a good time?" Chris asks as he runs his hand along my arm as we lay in bed.

"I'm having a great time," I say. "How about you?"

"It's definitely been better having you here," he says, "and experiencing everything with people who still are fascinated by it all and can laugh so openly is just... I really love your family, Clem."

"Awe, thanks," I say. "I really love them too. I know it's silly to say it now but I love your family as well. Tobes can't contain himself."

"You can bring him back with you tomorrow if you want," Chris says. "I like that kind of excitement."

"He'll love that," I say. "Thank you for including him. I know he has a hard time since he's practically an only child."

"You all love him like he grew right up with the rest of you," Chris says, twisting his finger around a curl. "Are you dressing up tomorrow?"

"Maybe," I say, "but it'll probably be less something if you're not dressing up as well. Did you know Madge, July and I have costumes for the three fairies from Maleficent, we crafted Liv the perfect Maleficent and Lizzie just wanted to be the crow."

"Now that sounds great," he laughs. "Which one are you?"

"Thistlewit," I say. "The yellow one."

"Of course you are," he says. "Like sunshine."

"Indeed. Are you hating this whole thing, like being here when you don't directly have a film coming out?"

"No," he says. "Actually it's really great to have you all here. Scott was excited at, like, the first two, but the coolness of it quickly faded for us. Being here with you when you all dress up and light up about the Cap action figure from 1966 or the dude dressed as Darth Maul or the creepy Professor Umbridge walking around, it's really nice. It's like for every shitty interview I have to do or every mind-numbing thing I have to attend, there's a fan out there who will be as excited as Tobes was to meet Zac, like it's a really fucking good reminder. I got into acting because I like being other people, I like experiencing things that way and telling other stories, and fame is an ugly byproduct of that, but the fans are the thing that makes it worth it."

"You've done good with your fame, too," I say. "You should be proud of that."

"I am," he says. "I wish I could do more."

"Your admittance of anxiety is pretty brave," I say. "You probably saved somebody's life with that and don't even know it. I'm also happy we Rogers can be a buffer to you the light side of fame. We're still really excited, you know. It's not really that great of a comparison since I've been around your movie buddies for so long, but if you let me meet Harrison Ford, Nathan Fillion or Idris Elba, I would lose my shit. I couldn't bear it."

"I can probably swing Nathan, I'd lose my shit if you met Harrison, and you'll definitely be meeting Idris. So you're welcome for that one. Anybody else you want me to try and swing?"

"Julianne Moore, you know, for the red hair. Amy Adams, Rosario Dawson, Meryl Streep and Kristin Stewart. That's it."

"That's it? Let me just go call the Queen and see if she can arrange a meeting with Meryl."

"Ah! Add Helen Mirren to the list! Yes, I should like very much to meet her, Dame Judy Dench and Dame Maggie Smith! Speaking of — is Toby Stephens going to be here? There's something about him. And Seb has hugged Meryl and kissed her cheek so I don't think that's out of the question!"

"That was in a movie!"

"Well, hook some single dude up with Mamie, make sure we get an invite to the wedding and then I'll meet Meryl."

"Sandy wasn't enough for you."

"Sandy is a lovely person but even you have to admit it's weird because you two slept together. Pretend it's not all you want but that is Sandra Bullock, Miss Congeniality, and I don't like to actively think about that."

"Clem, I didn't know."

"It's not a big deal. I mean, I'm sure you don't like running into Justin Timberlake because that has to be awkward on a level. But you can add him to my list."

"Clemmie," Chris laughs. "Can I please take J.T. off the list?"

"Yes, if you'll substitute Miss Nicki Minaj in his place."

"Done. What a list!"

"Indeed," I say. "Get to work, buddy boy."

"Are you really okay with Sandy? I can take my mom to the premier in November of you want."

"Oh, your mother can come but I'll be there too. For whatever reason, you two aren't together so I get it. And she's at least nice about it."

"What's that mean?"

"Cricket."

"Pfft, Cricket."

"Pfft." I echo, rather hoping for a change of subject. "What time do you have to be out and about tomorrow?"

"First interview is at eleven," he says. "I'm free after two, and then all I am obligated for is the Conversation on Friday."

"Oh, that'll be great, won't it? You, Zac, Seb and Mackie for a whole hour. Do I have to buy a ticket for that or how does that work? Or would you not want me there?"

"You can sit in the green room, I think," he says. "I've never done one before but they stream it back there. I'm sure that's where Bette will be."

"Great! If there's something you don't want me to attend, just let me know. They should have done a Chris panel with you, Pratt, Pine and Hemsworth. That panel would sell out in seconds, and I'd be front and center so I could determine who's baby blues are bluer."

He laughs. "I think Pine takes the cake on that one."

"He's got a lovely singing voice too."

"You don't like mine?"

"I love yours, prince," I say. "Just making a note. Well, we'll be busy Saturday. Are you excited?"

"It'll be fun," he says. "I look forward to experiencing the Masquerade from that side without anybody knowing it's me."

"We do too," I say. "Seb and Mackie can make fun of us all they want but we know they're just jealous."

"We'll see," Chris laughs. He yawns and I kiss the bit of bare chest beneath my cheek.

"Good night, Christopher Robert."

"Good night, li'l Clem," he says. "I love you."

I snuggle into his side and fall asleep quickly with him and the dogs in our bed as it should be.

The Conversation at Nerd HQ is fantastic. The place is sold out and the fans are beyond excited, and Bette, Sheletta and I are allowed to watch from the "office" of HQ. I know Chris is nervous but the chemistry between the four guys is so relaxed he quickly settles in. The questions are mostly movie related, about the fight sequences, bloopers and the fate of the three heroes.

"I know all three of you are currently taken," the girl with the microphone begins, only for Mackie to cut her off with, "Currently? Me and Seb are in it for the long haul. Chris still has time for that to change."

"I don't think it will," Chris says softly, his microphone not even close to his mouth.

"Yes, I am married," Sebastian says, "and so is Anthony. Chris is in a loving relationship. So, what's your question?"

"Yeah, well, I was just wondering what qualities you looked for in a lady."

"Booty." Anthony says automatically.

Chris laughs because I know that's one thing he definitely looks for, but he straightens in his chair. "My first thing would be to say not to change yourself for a person you're romantically interested in. You can pick up a new interest or hobby, maybe you get a little happier, but don't change who you fundamentally are for someone else —"

"Unless you're an asshole." Anthony cuts in.

"Yes, unless you're an asshole," Chris continues. "I think it's different for every guy or girl, and there are going to be certain traits you'll like, but chances are you'll find someone you weren't expecting."

Sebastian smiles, probably the most honest smile I've ever seen him have at one of these things. "Bette, my Bette, is kind, honest, supportive, trusting, strong, she's obviously talented and smart, um, beautiful — of course! I don't know if there's a word for it really, but she'll let me be upset about something and won't dismiss it but she will try to get me to see a different side to it. I guess that's why she's a playwright. Um, and now that we have our daughter —" he pauses as there are several cheers and a few gasps, "yeah, she's beautiful and wonderful and the best thing we ever took out of a baby store. Um, but now that we have our daughter, I'm seeing a whole different set of traits, and it's just amazing. I think if you had told me two years ago that Bette was going to be the one, I don't think I would have believed you, but now that we're together, I can't imagine my life any other way."

"Oh, we're giving serious answers," Anthony says, clapping a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. Bette's sitting next to me, smiling shyly at the screen. Murphy sleeps in her carrier with one tiny hand wrapped around Bette's finger. 

Sheletta, on the other hand, rolls her eyes and hides behind her hand. "Here goes."

"Aside from booty," Anthony says, "I like a sense of humor and confidence."

"And you, Chris?" the girl stares at him desperately.

"Um, I've never publicly admitted this before, but Clemmie and I actually met here at Comic Con last year in Speed Dating."

"What?" Zac asks, rocking forward in his chair.

"It's true, it's true," Chris says. "I won't go into more details than that, but I think that says a lot about Clemmie right there. She's giving, trusting, daring, funny. There have been many more things, and of course for me, I want a family so it's really fortunate she does too. That's something important to both of us so that's good. You may not know it yet, but the older you are, the more things stick out to you that you like or don't like. So don't settle but find someone who will get dressed up with you and attend an event with you but will also spend hours with you on the couch doing absolutely nothing. That's the one you should be with. I gave a much longer answer just then than you wanted. Sorry."

“No, no!” Zac says. “That’s great. I just can’t believe you met Clemmie at speed dating."

“I did,” Chris says. “True story. She was dressed as a little lady hobbit which was adorable and I was dressed as Darth Vader so she had no idea it was me. It just worked."

“You’re precious,” Zac says. “D’you have anything else to add?” All three of them shake their heads. “All right, next question, please."

The rest of the panel moves quickly and they make the audience laugh a lot. Doing the Conversation with his friends certainly helped Chris feel more comfortable, and he does much better when he’s not feeling pressured. Regular therapy sessions and a different medication seem to really be helping with his anxiety. I just want him to not hate ever single second of all of it because his brain is a little noisy.

He attends a photocall on Saturday, and then it's time for the Masquerade. Chris and I get ready in our room with Scott and Tobias, and I'm amazed how great Chris looks.

In 40-inch stilts, he stands over nine feet tall in a perfectly sculpted and painted Groot suit. The mask covers his entire head, and he says the getup is actually more comfortable than some variations of his Cap costume.

"This is going to be so cool!" Tobias shouts, his skin as blue as mine because he's acting as Yondu. "We look so excellent!"

Scott has been painted partially purple and he smiles at me as I slide his helmet into place.

"You look good, Clem," Chris says slowly and deeply, in his best version of Groot. "Should wear that outfit all the time."

I'm Nebula and I pull off the look pretty well, if I do say so myself.

"Are we all ready?"

Slightly barks as he sits by Chris's long leg, and we laugh.

"Let's go," Scott says. As Thanos, he's perfectly domineering and dangerous. Our counterparts meet us in the lobby and we walk to the Convention Center. Chris draws all the eyes as he looms over everyone else, but it's no surprise someone of his athletic ability has no issues with the stilts.

It's eventually our turn and I jump a couple of times to get out the nerves as the music starts off and Harrison takes the stage, doing the classic Peter Quill dance. Of course we're doing an abridged version of the film but the audience is already loving it by the time Madge as Gamora, August as Drax, Groot and Octavia as Rocket take the stage. Yondu has a bit which Tobias nails, and then Oz, Scott and I take the stage for our quick act.

My pulse races as we watch from the sideline as the most important part of our skit takes place, a bit which Oz, Harrison and Dad had been working on for awhile to make it perfect and had trusted Chris with the delivery. The stage darkens, the music changes, and suddenly and magically the entire Groot suit glows yellow with little pockets of light, and then the stage is illuminated with tiny yellow orbs. Tears prick my eyes with the spectacle of it all, proud of the work my brothers and father put in. It really is beautiful, but then it's back to business with the rest of the skit. It ends with Chris panting beside me beneath his Groot head while Madge, Harrison, August and Octavia take center stage with a tiny, functioning planted baby Groot in a pot.

"That was amazing!" Chris says when it ends. "Like so amazing. I get why you do it now."

"Fun, huh?"

"Yes! What now?"

"We wait for the results. Do you want to get out of the stilts?" I have no idea how he's standing to be so close to me as is.

"How many skits are left?"

"One," I answer. "Did you have fun?"

"I did!"

"Let's get you a chair at least," I say. "I'm so proud of you!"

"It was a blast."

We find two chairs off to the side so Chris can stretch out his legs, and a blue hand slides in a brown, leafy one.

Several minutes later, they get to the awards and I'm so nervous.

"Best in show goes to The Guardians of the Galaxy!"

I squeal, jumping up and attempting to help Chris get to his feet. It's only when Scott helps pull that he manages to get on his feet and we take the stage. There are pictures of us and people will lose their minds later when pictures of Chris appear without the head.

It really is wonderful sharing this with him, and I'm thrilled when he has Winston text some of the guys to meet us. Chris Pratt can’t get enough of looking at Harrison and laughing at Chris and Scott, and even Sebastian has to admit he’s very impressed. I already know Harrison is dressing as The Winter Soldier tomorrow so we’ll see how he feels then. Hayley catches up with us and demands a picture, but Chris still has his entire costume on.

“Do you want people to know it’s you under there?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says, “now that it’s over."

“DUBSMASH!” Hayley yells, probably the only person who has truly kept that App alive. She’s done very well with it.

“We could do that,” I say. “What song would we use?"

“What are we doing?” Tobias asks, popping his false teeth in and out of his mouth.

“Dubsmash to reveal Chris is Chris,” I answer.

“Cool! Can I be in it?” he asks.

“Sure,” I say. “What song?"

“Will you help me get the stilts off?” Chris asks. We’re in a back wing of the convention center now away from the crowds.

“Of course,” I say, going to unfasten the bottom half of Groot’s legs. We designed the costume so it could be worn with or without stilts.

“Hooked on a Feeling, Blue Swede,” Harrison says, “not only does that song belong to me, but we could all do it. Start with little Octavia, go down the line, we all do the ooga-chackas and Chris carries the lyrics. It should be right at fifteen seconds."

“Sounds good to me,” Chris says. “This is so much fun."

“I love it, I love it!” Hayley says. “I’ll man the camera. Clemmie, where is your phone?"

Madge strolls around the corner with Michael and he bows over with laughter. I give Hayley my phone and she opens the camera.

“You guys look incredible!” he says. “Clemmie, where’s your hair?"

“All tucked up,” I say. “How are you, Michael?"

“Great,” he says. Madge smiles at him as everyone’s introduced, and Harrison rounds up the rest of our siblings.

“Can you get off the mask easy enough?” I ask.

“I think so,” Chris says.

We run through it a couple of times until our director Hayley deems it ready, and we film our little video. It looks great so Hayley posts it to my Instagram account. My siblings and Hayley all repost it, and my phone continues to blow up with notifications.

"You ready to go back to the hotel?" I ask Chris a little while later.

He nods. "I'm so sweaty."

"We're going to turn in," I say, hugging Gamora. Madge laughs and says she and Michael will be leaving, too. I'm sure I'll be hearing about whatever that is tomorrow.

Chris puts back on the mask as we make our way to the hotel and he falls onto the couch when we get back to the room. Taking off the headpiece, he sighs.

"What a rush," he says, sinking into the cushions. I sit in the chair at the table and slowly work the bald cap off my scalp, relieved when it finally comes off. I pop out the black contacts I had worn to give me the perfect Nebula eyes.

"That's a sight," Chris says. "Nebula with a bunch of beautiful, fiery curls."

"Thank you," I say. "I'm going to take a shower. Want to come?"

"Of course," he says. "Will you help me out?"

It doesn't take us long to disassemble his costume and strip him down to his skivvies.

"Do you need help?" He asks. I shake my head as I pull down the hidden zipper beneath my arm. He turns on the water and smiles at me when I come into the bathroom a few minutes later. "Do you remember a year ago when we were in a shower similar to this one, washing off our paint?"

I nod at him as I unhook my bra, drop it, and peel off my underwear. "Of course I remember. I think that night was the night I fell in love with you."

"Oh really?" He asks, opening the glass door and pulling my wrist.

"Yes," I answer, wrapping my arms around his waist. "I think so."

Blue and silver paint melts from my skin, smears onto his and rushes down the drain.

"Clementine," he croons, kissing my cheek. I laugh when I look at him, his lips almost black. "What?"

"You've got a little paint residue," I say, raking my thumb over his lip. "Just there."

"It's been a year."

"It has," I say. "The best year of my life."

"Mine, too."

My skin prickles more from his touch than it does from the hot water, and I kiss the ink at his clavicle.

Comic con really does get better every year.


	20. Chapter 20

Lace, pearls, beads and trimming. This is my life with Chris filming Infinity War. I enjoy the work though and it's especially nice having my own studio with the opportunity to hire a seamstress and an intern. The offices below are almost finished, and Tina and I have already been taking weddings. Lisa had lists of wonderful people who might be willing to help us in all our endeavors who we can recommend for clients. It's good to stay busy though.

I've been spending time in New York with Madge, my dresses and "Say Yes to the Dress." It's really been fun being on the show because I get to meet a lot of wonderful people buying dresses, and I've gotten to help a few brides out of tough situations. Of course there are a few brides or party members who are huge assholes but thankfully I just get to smile through it. The dresses I made in a wide range of sizes are being very well received, and that's excellent to know my efforts are paying off.

But now Darling and I sit in Scott's car, stuck in traffic in Los Angeles. I've made a surprise trip to visit Chris for a few days before the office officially opens. One last hurrah, if you will.

"He's going to lose his mind," Scott says, petting Darling's head where it rests in my lap. "I know he likes hanging out with the other guys and me, but he really misses you and you too, Clemmie."

I laugh. "You're silly. But Darling and I both miss Chris and Slightly. It'll be easier to visit now before he goes off around the world."

"You're still going to see him though, right?"

"Yes," I say. "I have a ticket to Iceland, one for Prague and then I plan on swinging by New Mexico and Philedelphia."

"Sounds like a plan!" Scott says. "They'll give them the holidays off so he'll be home then."

"And Disney! I'm really excited about Disney."

"I'm excited the Rogers clan was able to get in on that," I say. "We always have a great time."

"I hope everyone has a good time."

Eventually we make it to Chris's street, and our plan is to be descreet. We'll sneak Darling into the backyard, Scott will drop my bag right inside the back door, and then he'll be on his way. Slightly isn't even here because I had Winston schedule him an appointment at the groomer's. Stealth mode.

"Thanks," I whisper to Scott as my plan unfolds perfectly. I know Chris well enough to know he should be napping, and I have every intent of just slipping into bed with him so he thinks it's a dream.

"Of course, babe," Scott says, pulling me into a hug. "See you at dinner."

"See you then," I say. The house is silent except for the air conditioner, so I know my plan should be perfect.

Except it isn't. As I climb the stairs, I can hear him panting, breathy moans echoing down the hall. I'm walking faster now, my heart hammering between my ears.

"Fuck, that feels so good!" He breathes loudly with the bedroom door open just a crack. A woman's voice responds and my heart drops. It can't be true.

And it's not.

Sprinting, I shove open the door and gasp.

"Jesus Christ, Clementine!" Chris shouts, his eyes springing open and his hand reaching for a pillow. "You scared the shit out of me."

I'm still trying to catch my breath at the sight of him stretched out in bed with his boxers around his ankle, the jar of coconut oil open on the bedside table, and his iPad propped up on the duvet. My voice sounds from the iPad from a video I sent him the other day and my cheeks burn.

"Scared the shit out of you?! I thought you were with someone else!"

"Why would I be with someone else?" He asks, his chest heaving.

"I don't know, but that's how it sounded! I just started walking upstairs and could hear you all hot and bothered. I'm sorry I scared you and that I didn't trust you."

"Oh, it's okay," he says. "I can't imagine what I would do if I heard you in the same way. I'd be very angry. Sorry you caught me wanking off."

"No, no! I'd rather you wank off than be with somebody else. I came to surprise you."

"You certainly did," he laughs, finally shutting off his iPad. I'm still frozen against the door but he rolls swiftly off the bed, covering himself with the decorative pillow. "If it's any consolation, I was thinking of you and you were doing very well."

I kiss him, the pillow and his arm between us. "I wonder if the real me could do better than the thought."

"You know you could," he says, tossing the pillow onto the bed.

"You're filthy, Mr. Evans. I wasn’t planning on jumping straight into it.” I sink to my knees anyway.

“Says the pretty girl who sent a video of her cute little ass plugged."

"Yes, I would have worn one today but I'd hate for that to show up on the TSA scanner."

"Strip searching has never been so sexy."

"Mmm," I agree, licking my lips. "You got this worked up over a video?"

"Only when you're in it, gorgeous," he says. I laugh as I wrap my lips around the head of his perky cock and give it a good lick. "Fuck, I missed you."

He's already worked himself up so nicely, it only takes a few well-pressured licks and a couple precisely-timed squeezes of his balls before he's gripping my hair and grunting while I swallow everything.

"Hello to you too," I say, kissing his hip. I take his hands as he helps me up, and then he's kissing me. It feels like coming home after a long trip and having all your favorite comforts within arm's reach.

"Clementine," he says, "how do I say hello to you?"

"In French, maybe?"

" _Bonjour, mademoiselle_ ," he laughs before kissing me as the French do. I smile as he effortlessly carries me to the bed and drops me. He pushes my skirt up and pulls my underwear down, and I giggle as he buries his face between my thighs. " _Bonjour, bonjour, bonjour, bonjour, bonjour, bonjour._ "

"There goes the baker with his tray, like always," I sing, even though he's nipping my skin. "The same old bread and rolls to sell."

"Clemmie!" Chris whines. “You are by far the most infuriating woman I’ve ever been with."

“Just because I like to talk?"

He sucks my clitoris in his mouth and rolls his tongue over it several times. “Talk now."

It’s a wicked game we play, teasing each other right to the edge. He knows precisely how to move his fingers, lips and tongue to have me shaking in minutes, and I drag my nails across his scalp as I come.

" _Merci beaucoup_ ," I breathe, feeling limp against the mattress. He kisses his way up my body, his lips pressing into the fabric of my dress. Slipping his hands in mine, he stretches my arms above my head and captures my lips.

“ _Un_ _autre_?” he asks, kissing my jaw.

“ _Oui,_ ” I answer, nipping his ear. Eventually my dress comes off with many sloppy kisses. My ankles end up on his shoulders and he bites his bottom lip as he mulls over the question he wants to ask. Instead I simply nod and he dips his fingers into the coconut oil.

My beloved works open the tight hole with his fingers, and I enjoy the burn of my thighs stretched against his chest. I grab a condom from the drawer and toss it at him, hitting him in the cheek. He laughs as he picks it up from where it landed on my abdomen and rips open the package with his teeth. I chuckle at him but quickly steel myself as he wraps his hands around my ankles and pushes inside. The stretch is so much better than any plug or vibrator could ever supply. He kisses me as he moves, pushing and pulling me closer to the edge.

"You okay?"

I nod, unable to speak. It's impossible to describe how it feels to be this close to him, to have his eyes on me, to feel the gentle way my back rolls against the sheets with his thrusts. It's really overwhelming, and I have to kiss him to know it's actually happening. I come quietly with nothing more than a small gasp, and Chris smiles as he kisses my ankle. It doesn't take much more for him to follow, and he collapses onto me. Slipping my legs from beneath him, I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders and breathe.

"Oh Clemmie, Clemmie, Clemmie," he says, his face between my head and my shoulder. "I love you so fucking much."

"That's because I let you in the back door."

"No," he says, popping up so he's looking at me. "No, that's not it. I thoroughly enjoy that you let me do that, but that's not why I love you." He runs his hand down my arm and laces my fingers with his. "I love you because you're so caring and kind. You love me more than I deserve, I know that. You've just got a good soul, Clem."

"Thank you," I say. "I love you too, not nearly as much as you deserve as much as you think otherwise, but as much as I can. I love you with my whole being, by the way, I know I'm not a lot but it's all I got." Chris smiles, his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. "Now throw the condom in the trash before it gets really gross, please."

He laughs and pushes off me. "As you wish."

I watch him disappear into the bathroom before I stretch all my travel-sore yet sexily-strung out muscles. He flops back onto the bed a few minutes later and flings his arm across my waist.

"What do you want to do now?"

"We're having dinner with Scott in a few hours," I say. "Other than that, just being with you is enough."

"Want to watch a movie?"

"Sure," I answer, feeling rather like a nap. He reaches across me for the remote and I find the will to crawl under the covers. "Don't be mad if I fall asleep."

"I would never," he says, sliding between the sheets with me. I laugh when the movie starts because he's picked "Beauty and The Beast," and I stay awake only to hear him sing.

Later that night we're tucked in bed again, Chris with a book and me with my tablet. Bette just posted the cutest picture of Murphy and Sebastian, and I can't hold it back anymore.

"Christopher?" I ask, setting my tablet on the nightstand.

"Yes, Clementine?"

"I'm going to see my gynecologist in a couple of months, and I was thinking about getting my implant taken out."

"What?" The pen he's been chewing drops to his chest.

"I'm ready to be a mother."

I've never been more terrified of a conversation in my life.

"Oh."

"I was generally thinking you would be the father and we would raise our baby and possible babies together. You want a family, don't you?"

I was expecting a little more pizazz or interest from him, but so far he's just looking at me like I'm speaking gibberish.

He closes his book and drops it on the floor before rolling onto his side to look at me. "Of course I want a family, Clem, and I want that family with you, but not right now."

"Not right now? Then when? We're not getting any younger, you know."

"It's not that," he says. "I've always planned on being married to a woman before starting a family with her. So, if you will let me, I would like to propose marriage to you, spend some time being your fiancé should you accept, and then once we're married, the decision to have a baby is completely yours. In fact, if we got engaged, we could start trying then. I know it seems like a weird request since we live together and obviously already have sex, but I always just thought I would be married. Does that make me an old-fashioned sap?" He runs his fingers through his hair. "Of course I don't want to tell you you can't have a baby because it's your choice and I don't know if this is even coming out right bu—"

I kiss him to shut him up. "You just want to wait until we're married."

"Please?"

"Yes!"

"Yes?"

"Okay, I can wait." I kiss him quickly. "I don't want to wait forever, but I can wait. I don't know what's happened to me — I've always wanted kids — but it's just recently if I see a baby, my ovaries clench up for a second, like they just want to drop the perfect little egg that will combine with the perfect little sperm and then I'll have the perfect little baby to love and cherish." Chris laughs as I squeeze his fingers. "It's true! And I know you want a baby — you get all gooey every time you're around one. So I can wait, but know I'll wait until we're married. I'm not getting pregnant when we're engaged. No way." I feel so elated we're going to have a baby some time in the future, I'm bouncing. "What is the point of having a wedding if you can't even get a little intoxicated to enjoy it? I've been to enough to know the bride deserves to be a little drunk unless she has religious or personal convictions against it."

"I take your word for it," he says. "I don't want to give anything away, and it depends on how long you want to get the wedding together, but you could be with child this time next year."

"Really?" I ask, leaning into him. I kiss him and don't really pull away.

"If you want," he answers, pressing his lips to mine again.

"Well then, would you like to practice making a baby in the meantime?"

He laughs, his lips against mine as he pulls me on top of him.

It's a great thought I find Boston to be an okay place because being here without Chris would be pointless. Lisa has been so nice, inviting me to events with her and she and Carly have both enlisted me to help with some of the more elaborate costumes for their programs.

I've helped Tina settle in to a cute apartment so close to the office she can walk, and she's been going on lots of dates. It’s good to see her so happy in her new life.

“Hey boss lady,” Tina says, walking into the studio. “Brian says they’re all finished downstairs if you’re ready to check it out. The furniture will all be here tomorrow."

“Perfect,” I say. “What do you think?"

“I’m excited,” she says. “I hope we can make it look half as good down there as you have in here."

“Me, too,” I laugh. “We’ll make it great.” I stand up from my desk and follow her out, locking the door behind us. “Let’s hope Morganstern is pleased with how we’ve done things."

“She loves you,” Tina says, “you could have covered the walls with chicken shit and she would be okay with it."

“I highly doubt that,” I say, “but let’s see what we’ve done."

“Good afternoon, Miss Rogers,” Brian, the lead contractor says. He’s sort of rugged and very attractive, muscles bulging out of his T-shirt. He’s got a pencil tucked behind his ear and his smile grows when he sees Tina. “Are you two lovely ladies ready to see our work?"

“We are,” I say. “Thank you."

“Excellent,” he says. “It wasn’t an easy task getting everything set to the expectations but we were happy to do it."

“Great,” Tina says, echoing my sentiments. “We just want to have the best possible space to give our clients the experience they deserve."

“Certainly,” he says. “I think all my guys are out if you would like to follow me."

I grab Tina’s hand just because and she squeals excitedly. “Let’s go."

Brian grins as he pushes open the French doors. “Reception desk."

The office is a pristine beige color, not necessarily something I would have chosen personally but I know Morganstern will approve as most venues are of a beige variety and this will give us the most room to play with accent colors and floral arrangements.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, running my finger along the top of the built-in desk. The top is a stunning recycled glass of mostly whites and grey with a shards of blue here and there. “This came out really nicely."

“You like it there, you should see it in the kitchen,” Brian says. “Anyway, as requested, this is your entry and waiting room. We’ll put two chairs and a plant here as suggested, and then over here we’ll have your couches, coffee table and love seat. The fireplace is fully functional and can be controlled with this remote.” He slips it in my hand and within seconds, a cozy fire is blazing away. “That will be really beautiful during these cold Boston winters."

“Yes, that’s a nice feature,” I say, passing the remote to Tina who kicks the flames up. She laughs before switching it off and we watch the fire pitter out.

“This way, please,” he says. I sigh happily as we turn the corner and there are walls sectioned off just as we had envisioned. Four separate areas for displaying possible wedding concepts, each with its own lighting feature for easy control. Every wall is beige but has a section of pull-outs so we will be able to easily change the color to those most often found in venues to give a better idea of how the decorations will actually look. Also included is a place for our sponsors to display their information so every bride will know exactly where their flowers, cake, chairs, linens, lighting and even flooring is coming from.

“This is so great! Don’t tell the boss I said this, but I think this is far better than anything she has to offer at her office." Tina snickers as she runs her finger along the chair rail. “This will be a lot of fun to use."

“And we’ve made the hookups really easy to switch out lighting if need be,” he says, “if you’ll follow me.” We go around the corner to another miniature room where the step ladder sits beneath the light. “Flick this switch right here, and it will shut the power completely off to this room, for safety reasons. We can easily switch this basic light for this chandelier.” He climbs the ladder with the chandelier in hand, easily pinches the connection and passes me the light. Within seconds, the chandelier hangs perfectly in the center of the room. “Now, Miss Tina, if you’ll flip the switch please."

I gasp a little in surprise when the beautiful chandelier lights the room and Brian smiles at us.

“It’s that easy,” he says. “Of course any lighting company you’re using should be hanging them themselves, but I figured I would show you in case you ever needed to do it.” He climbs off the stool and sets the light on the floor. “The floor should last you a long time and it responds really well to the Boston climate. I know you kept the concrete in your studio, Miss Rogers, but I think the hardwood really adds a warmth to this space."

“Yes, I like it,” I say, sliding my foot across it a couple of times. “The concrete is good enough for me and I think it’s actually really pretty with the stain on it, but I do agree this is definitely more appealing to our clients."

“These are the two restrooms?” Tina asks, pulling on the handle closest to us.

“Yes ma’am,” Biran answers. flicking on the switch. “The hardwood continues within, both ADA-compliant with changing tables in each, and gender neutral. The doors should lock so it shouldn’t make much of a difference with each of them being one toilet only."

“That sounds great,” I say. “We shouldn’t have that many people in here at a time anyway."

Brian nods, understanding the basic nature of our business. “And here is your storage."

I know it’s probably nerdy, but his flicking on this light switch makes me grin. Floor to ceiling shelving covers most of the walls with some gaps for larger items. It’s the perfect place to keep tables, chairs, cushions, vases, lighting fixtures and anything else we made need.

“This is fantastic,” I say, circling the room. “Really, really great."

“Thank you,” he says. “These shelves should be able to hold the weight of anything you put on it. And access to the elevator is just outside, the hall to get to is plenty wide for wheelchairs, walkers and carts."

“Excellent,” I say. “Really fantastic work."

“Thank you, Miss Rogers,” he says. “Shall we go upstairs?"

“Yes!” Tina says, “I’m dying to see my office."

We had many conversations after our initial plan about how the offices should be done. With my studio on the top floor and my time being split between the two, I felt it would be stupid for me to have the largest office. Morganstern demanded a space for when she decided to visit which posed a problem as well; there’s no point in wasting real estate for someone who’s not even guaranteed to be there often. So instead we decided to make the first office for interns. Two desks, two computers, two phones.  Easy enough. Next on either side of the hall would be new employees’ offices, then mine and Morganstern’s would be across from each other. Tina gets the back office which is the biggest, but it’s also next to the kitchen so it may not always be the quietest, though she said she wouldn’t mind.

We follow Brian back through our display floor, lock the new glass door and climb the stairs. He passes me the new key and grins. “Your offices, my ladies."

“Yes!’ Tina cheers as I push open the door. It’s even better than the sketches and models appeared, I know Morganstern will be impressed.

“We knew you wanted to have a bit more fun with this floor so that’s exactly what we did,” he says. “Take a look around and I’ll be here if you have questions."

Quirky wallpaper covers one wall in each office, all in different pattern but in a neutral color. Since Tina and I were present, we got to pick our design out and the color of the other walls in our offices. I picked a nice turquoise and Tina went with a delightful plum. The construction is perfect, and we even found really cool light fixtures for each office and the hallway. We’ve hired a receptionist who will be downstairs and one more planner for starters. We’ll add more and the interns as we expand, but the office has plenty of space for us. There’s another bathroom up here which we plan to keep private.

Once we’ve made our rounds, we meet Brian back at the front doors. I hug him because I have to, and say, “It looks so great, really. Thank you so much."

“Of course,” he says. “We had a lot of fun customizing everything downstairs and up here."

“We will highly recommend you to anyone who is looking,” I say. “The timeline worked out great and the work is fantastic."

“That’s all we can ask for,” he says. “Thank you."

We go downstairs and sign off on all the remaining paperwork before Brian turns to leave.

“You’ll all come to the opening Saturday, won’t you? We’ll have plenty of food and stuff and we’re trying to drum up some interest so bring a few people with you if you’d like."

“You’re sure?"

“Of course,” I say. “We’ll have two whole floors of guests and a lot of vendors are providing things so we’re not even paying that much for it. I mean, not that that’s a reason for you to come, but you’re invited."

“That sounds great,” he says. “I’ll tell the guys."

“Thank you for everything,” I say. “We’re very pleased."

“Thank you for hiring us, Miss Rogers,” he says. “You’ve both been a delight to work for."

Tina smiles as he hugs her too before picking up his clipboard and heading out.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” I say, watching him easily climb into this pickup.

“Cute, Clemmie?” Tina scoffs. “He’s like Armie Hammer and Zachary Levi made love in a field of lumberjacks and that’s the product of it. He’s more than cute."

“Oh, are you working him into your busy schedule?"

“Please, Clem,” she laughs. “He’s very clearly trying to impress you."

“Just because I’m the so-called boss,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Clem, I say this because I love you — you’re cute but not always the quickest to catch onto things."

“Shut up,” I laugh. “Do you want to come hang out upstairs for awhile or are you heading out?"

“No, I’ll come upstairs,” she says. “I like being in your studio."

Over the next few days, we get everything set up just as we like it. Friday and Saturday are a buzz with vendors we’ve agreed to partner with bringing in their contributions to our grand opening event.

But now it’s time. Tina and I stand at our front door with our receptionist, Veronica, and our third planner, Cynthia. A few brides have already come inside, and we’ve left our vendors with their designs to talk about the possible things they can do.

“Clemmie!” Lisa cheers as she comes through the door. Carly is with her and they grin. “It looks really fantastic, sunshine."

“Thank you,” I say as I hug her. “It’s been a sort of labor of love. Go in, there’s plenty of food and enjoy everything. Thank you for coming."

“Of course,” Carly says. “We’re excited to see everything you do."

I smile at them as they make their way through.

Half an hour later, things are really moving. We’ve brought in a DJ to celebrate the night whose services are also available for weddings, which is pretty smart on my part, and guests seem to be enjoying everything.

“We’ve had five brides ask about our services already,” Tina says, coming back to my side. “This is great."

“Is it great?” Mrs. Morganstern asks, popping through the front door. “I came to see how my protégés are doing."

“Morgana,” I say, hugging her. “Thank you for being able to make it."

“It’s my name on the business,” she says, “I have to be here. Tina, take me around. I want to see everything."

Tina widens her eyes at me over Mrs. Morganstern’s shoulder and escorts her into our office.

A few minutes later, the door opens again and it's Brian looking more like a model than a construction contractor.

"Good evening, Mr. Compton," I say, "welcome to our grand opening."

"Thank you, Miss Rogers," he says. "The place has really come together."

"A lot of that has to do with you," I say. "Would you like to go in and look around?"

"Really, Clemmie," he says, stepping closer. "I have no doubt about your ability to plan a beautiful wedding, but I actually only came to see you."

"You did? Why?"

He really is beautiful. Curly dark hair with little bits of gray around his temples, warm brown eyes with flecks of gold and a jawline of steel.

"You're very smart," he says. "It took me all of two seconds over the phone with you to figure that out. You're kind — you bought us all lunch when you don't have to and you were very patient with all the men in and out of here and in your studio." He reaches out like he wants to curl a finger in my hair, but thinks better of it. "Of course you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, with that smile that lights up the whole place."

"Brian, uh, Mr. Compton, I'm flattered, really, I am. I have a boyfriend though. And actually, I'm not even sure boyfriend encompasses what he is because it feels like more than that. I'm sorry if it seemed like I led you on, it was unintentional if I did."

"It's okay," he says, taking a step backwards. "Of course you have a boyfriend. Why wouldn't you have a boyfriend? Um, I'm just going to go then. If something should happen where you two are not two anymore, you know how to reach me, you know, if you're interested."

"Oh, won't you stay? I don't want you to feel awkward or anything but you're all dressed up and we have a lot of food. I wouldn't mind introducing you to everyone either so they can admire your work."

"It's not awkward for you?"

"I don't mean to sound prideful, but no, it's not. You don't have to stay of course."

"I'll stay," he says, "but only for the food."

The smile on his face is so large when he says this, it's a wonder my smile could even compare.

"That's great."

"Your boyfriend — is he here? I should apologize if he's here."

"No, no, he's out of the country on work."

"You open a business and your boyfriend is out of the country and didn't bother to be here?"

"It's not like that," I answer. "He would be here if he could, his schedule is very strict."

"Huh," he says. "If you were with me, I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"It's not a big deal for me," I answer. "I know how he feels. Actually there's someone you could meet." I search the crowd until I find Lisa and Carly laughing with Tina. "Lisa, Carly, this is the Brian Compton, our wonderful contractor. He built everything you're looking at. Brian, this is Lisa and Carly, my boyfriend's mother and sister."

"Oh nice to meet you," Brian says, shaking their hands. "I was beginning to think this boyfriend didn't exist."

"My son is very real," Lisa laughs, "even if he hasn't been present for all of this. Where is he this week, Clemmie? Paris? Berlin? It's hard to keep up with him sometimes."

"He's in Paris, actually," I say. "He's picking me up some lace while he's there which is super exciting."

"That'll be pretty," Carly says. "Tina was just telling us about the dresses you've displayed upstairs. It sounds really lovely."

"I'll take you up there when this is over if you want to hang around that late," I say.

"Well, your work is lovely too," Lisa says, looking at Brian. "We were studying your light fixtures. That's incredible! Could I get something like that done in my house?"

Thank God for Lisa.

"I need to go check on the other guests if you don't mind," I say. "I'll be around. Please enjoy the food and drinks."

Four hours later, Tina and I fall onto the couch.

"It really does look great, girls," Mrs. Morganstern says. "I know you'll do my name proud, but don't get too comfortable because I can pop in at anytime."

"We would never get too comfortable," I say. "I'm glad you're pleased though."

"We have a whole list of potential couples," Tina says, "and we're going to attend a bridal show in two weeks. Our vendors are very excited to be working with us."

"Sounds great. Don't forget to send in numbers and I want to know when there's a new hire. I don't need to approve, I just want to know."

"We will let you know," I say. "We're just going to stick with Veronica and Cynthia for now, and I've contacted the local colleges to get interns in here in January."

"Excellent plan," she says. "Reward work with experience so we don't have to pay them. That's how you got your job, after all."

"I could never forget," I say. "Thank you so much for coming."

"Of course," she says. "I'll be in on Monday."

"Yes ma'am," Tina says. "We wouldn't expect anything less."

We watch her climb into her car and both sigh with relief.

"She seems tough but I like her," Lisa says. "It was really wonderful. I'm proud of you both."

"Thank you so much," I say. "We enjoy it."

"I'm going to head out now," Tina says. "The DJ is waiting for me at Spinelli's."

"Ooh, Tina," I giggle. "Have a good time and be safe."

"I will," she says, hugging me. "I'm really glad you brought me with you."

"Me, too," I say. I watch her climb safely into her car and pull away only to find Lisa and Carly standing me. "Sorry it's late. Do y'all still want to go upstairs?"

"Yes!" Lisa says. "Unless it's too late for you?"

"Not at all," I say. "It's actually nice to have company outside of the girls."

Lisa takes my hand and smiles. "We're here for you."

"I think that contractor was here for you too," Carly says.

"He was," I say, "but I told him I had a boyfriend and he backed off."

"Well, that's good when they can be politely rejected," Lisa says as we climb the stairs. "I really do want him to do some work on the house. It needs a bit of new life."

"We'll have to send Shana over for a bit then," Carly says. "She could date a contractor."

"He's really nice too," I say.

"She needs someone nice," Lisa says. "I don't know what happened but she keeps dating really horrible men."

"It's a phase we all go through," I say, sliding my key in the lock.

"That's so true," Carly says. "Remember when I dated Brandon? He was horrible."

"He was," Lisa laughs. "I had forgotten all about him."

"I have a couple of bad ones, too," I say. "You ready?"

I flip the light switch and Lisa gasps.

"Oh Clementine! This is lovely."

Tina and I transformed the floor even more once we got the furniture and technology in. Florists have agreed on a schedule to donate fresh flowers every week so the place is alive with buds and blossoming petals. We've accented with rugs and diffusers which make the whole place smell like vanilla and the slightest bit of mint. A trip to CostCo has our kitchen stocked with snackables, the closet full of cleaning supplies and our desks full of paper clips and Post-It Notes.

"Thank you," I say. "Our offices should be an extension of our work, the finest example of taste and class."

"Taste and class is right," Carly says, brushing the petal of a peony perched in the middle of the interns' desk. "It's gorgeous. I want to get married again just I can have you plan my wedding."

"Ten years is coming up soon, isn't it?" I ask. "Vow renewals are really special, too."

"We might have to do that," she says. Carly pauses and looks at me, her face softening yet her lips curl into a smile. Within seconds she's hugging me, holding me tightly. "I'm really glad Chris met you. Oh, Clemmie!"

There's even more pressure on my side and Lisa's jumped in on the hug. "I'm glad, too! I love you, Clem!"

"I love both of you," I say, and suddenly I'm crying.

"Oh, sweetheart, why the tears?"

"I just really missed Chris for a second," I manage, wiping my cheeks with my finger tips. "You're both here and you don't have to be and that's really kind."

"We love you," Lisa says, rubbing my arms gently in that way mothers do. "We really do, and we are happy to support you, especially if Chris can't be here."

"Thank you," I say. "I really appreciate it."

"How about we grab a box of wine and go back to Mom's for the night?" Carly suggests. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Yes, let's do that!" Lisa says. "I have wine at home though so there's no need to even stop."

"That would be really great," I say. "Let me run upstairs, get Darling and we can be on our way."

Lisa kisses my cheek and pulls me into a hug again before letting me go.


End file.
